She's a Passerby, But Can See the Protagonist's Halo-Chapter 131

After returning from Xue Family Alley, though Yan wasn’t sure how He Xing’s conversation with her parents had gone, she could see that her senior had gradually begun to relax.

Though they hadn’t known each other for long, compared to when He Xing first arrived at the dorm, she had seemed somewhat tense back then. Perhaps even she hadn’t noticed the slight furrow between her brows.

But over the past few days, He Xing had slowly unwound. When they ate breakfast together in the mornings, Yan could now see a faint smile on her face.

That said, He Xing had become even stricter with herself. She returned to the dorm later and later after classes, almost rivaling Ding Ling’s schedule.

Life on campus carried on day after day, but for Yan and Zhu Jue, the biggest surprise of the week was the sudden appearance of their "god-daughter."

Last semester, Lin Fan had made a name for himself in the department after an incident where he physically confronted someone. But he was already well-known for frequently posting about his wife and child on social media. Among their peers, Lin Fan was often referred to as "that guy in our department who has a kid—Lin Lu’s husband."

So when Lin Anran showed up at Bin University as an auditor, trailing closely behind Lin Fan during lectures, her striking presence inevitably drew attention.

Lin Fan, however, was completely unfazed. His daughter wanting to attend classes with him was a good thing—it meant he had to set a proper example, didn’t it?

He had always been serious about his studies, knowing he couldn’t compete with his classmates academically. Now that his daughter was auditing, she could even take exams. The two of them could study and review together. If she asked him a question he couldn’t answer, wouldn’t that be embarrassing?

He indulged in a brief fantasy of a heartwarming father-daughter study session, seeing it as a perfect opportunity to bond.

"Daughters ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‍grow up and do as they please," he thought. No matter how much she scowled at him, what could he do? Just spoil her, of course!

Weeks passed, and Lin Anran gradually settled into life at Bin University. Many students added her on WeChat.

University auditors typically needed an official letter of introduction to enroll, and they didn’t receive student IDs—meals and other necessities were entirely their own responsibility. But for Lin Anran, none of that was an issue.

Her previously irregular sleep schedule was forcibly normalized now.

"An’an, have you gained a little weight recently?" Yan asked one day in the cafeteria, looking at Lin Anran across the table.

Lin Anran’s head snapped up. "Have I? I haven’t stepped on a scale lately."

To keep tabs on that person, she hadn’t just returned to school—she also had to wake up early every day to exercise with him!

She couldn’t understand why he insisted on working out outside when they had all the necessary equipment at home.

But because of the daily workouts, her morning appetite had grown ravenous, and she was definitely eating more than before.

"You were so thin before, your face was practically skeletal. Putting on a little weight is good," Lin Fan chimed in seriously.

His daughter’s chin had been sharp enough to poke someone before. A rounder, fuller face would be much better—eating well, exercising, studying hard, and staying healthy. Wasn’t that all any parent could ask for?

Since Lin Anran didn’t have a dorm on campus, she often stopped by Room 320 to rest during lunch breaks.

Though someone was usually missing from the dorm at noon, she refused to climb onto any of her godmother’s roommates’ beds. Just being in someone else’s dorm was already an intrusion.

So, Yan’s dorm acquired a new essential item—a foldable cot.

But after buying it, they barely used it for napping. Instead, they laid out yoga mats and cushions on the floor. Their dorm was full of high-energy people, and at noon, they’d play cards together, getting more and more lively as they went.

Lin Anran’s arrival was met with enthusiasm by Yan’s roommates. Due to differing class schedules and personal commitments, someone was always coming or going.

But once An’an showed up, she became their permanent card game partner—especially as a "newbie," her luck was downright overpowering. With beginner’s luck on her side, whoever teamed up with her was guaranteed a win.

She also formed a gaming squad with Chu Bingbing, and under Yi Zhi’s occasional leadership, they dominated in PUBG daily.

Though the daily workouts and classes were exhausting, she had a blast hanging out with her godmother’s roommates.

During this time, Lin Anran truly experienced what it meant to be "painfully happy." As the only auditor in her classes, she quickly became memorable to the professors, who often called on her to answer questions.

From her observations on campus, that person had no female classmates around him. Everyone knew he was married with a child and kept their distance. His reputation among the students was excellent—known as a "show-off husband and dad" who would whip out his phone at any moment to brag about his family. Some even avoided him just to dodge another round of baby photos.

Lin Anran's emotions were complicated. She knew all too well that the person loved her and loved her mother.

Everything in this world was different from before.

Yet the past still weighed heavily on her heart.

She wasn’t sure if it was because of her interference or because of her godparents, but that person hadn’t encountered any new "accidents" lately.

Every day, they went to school together, attended classes, played happily, then returned home to eat with her mother, coaxing her younger self to sleep. Life was peaceful and content, and even her temper toward that person had softened.

It was an indescribable feeling—the whole family taking turns soothing a fussy little Anran to sleep, exhausting themselves before sneaking into the dining room to quietly snack, stifling their laughter while keeping an eye on the baby monitor.

If she hadn’t come back, Lin Anran would never have known how difficult her one-and-a-half-year-old self could be.

On weekends, that person would read picture books to little Anran while she and her mother pretended to read on the sofa—though in reality, Lin Anran hid her phone inside a book, secretly scrolling.

It felt like the very embodiment of happiness.

A family’s happiness.

Occasionally, a fleeting moment would strike her heart, filling her with overwhelming emotion.

Lin Anran grew increasingly reluctant to disrupt any of it.

Everything she had missed in her past life seemed to be here now.

Every morning, she pinched herself hard—was this a dream? Did it hurt? Had she woken up?

If this was destined to be a long, beautiful dream, she almost wished she’d never wake from it.

By late March, spring had arrived, and as the Qingming Festival holiday approached, Ding Ling’s movements became increasingly elusive.

Online, netizens were once again collectively complaining about holiday schedule adjustments. The hashtag #QingmingHolidayAdjustment briefly topped the trending list before being overtaken by an official police statement in blue and white.

A month later, the cold case involving senior He Xing was solved.

Though the names of the victims were redacted in the report, the details were unmistakable to those familiar with the case. Like the Xie Family case before it, the reopening of this old investigation sparked widespread discussion.

Netizens quickly connected the dots—less than a month ago, a young dancer from the Xia National Dance Theater had been taken away by the police, and a performance had abruptly collapsed. Now, with this police announcement, everything made sense.

"I knew it! I just knew something was off with the understudy’s performance of The Goddess of the Luo River in Bin City that afternoon—either emotional distress or a breakup. Turns out, it wasn’t heartbreak. It was the mental breakdown of a criminal before arrest!"

"After reading the report, I’m stunned. Over a single opportunity, they ruined another genius’s entire family—parents gone, career destroyed."

"I’m in tears. I heard the victim is working hard to return to the stage. I believe it won’t be long before we see her perform again."

"He Xing—how unfortunate, yet how fortunate. It’s heartbreaking to learn about you this way, but I look forward to seeing you on stage."

Since He Xing had already returned to school and resumed dance training for a month, some details inevitably leaked.

Aside from Yan and Ding Ling, everyone in Room 320—including temporary resident Lin Anran—did their best to act normal, careful not to reopen old wounds for He Xing.

Chu Bingbing cringed at the memory of her earlier gossip sessions in the dorm, especially when she had speculated about Fu Yao’s arrest. She wanted to strangle her past self.

She remembered… how Yan had deliberately changed the subject back then.

And those tickets to The Goddess of the Luo River in Bin City—she had given them to Yan and He Xing.

Chu Bingbing: "…"

If anyone told her Yan had nothing to do with this, she wouldn’t believe it!

From the overturned Xie Family case to He Xing’s situation, Chu Bingbing suspected Yan and the others had played a major role.

She wasn’t the only one who thought so.

Though Ding Ling had previously helped He Xing in a small way, she had no knowledge of personal matters.

After reading the report, she sighed inwardly.

The last time she introduced Li to He Xing, it was Yan who had facilitated it—meaning they must have known about He Xing’s ordeal all along.

Whether it was Lan Ruo’s situation or He Xing’s, they had pulled people from the brink of disaster.

Ding Ling recalled Zheng Yi’s visit to Bin City and easily connected the dots.

Everything had been arranged quietly, without a trace.

She wasn’t surprised by this anymore, though she couldn’t help but marvel.

Because Yan couldn’t interfere with karma, even helping He Xing reunite with her deceased parents had to be done through Ding Ling—saving the suffering, guiding them to peace.

As for He Xing herself, she carried a golden aura of accumulated merit, as if she had lived through multiple lifetimes. By all rights, she should have lived a life of peace and prosperity. Yet in this life, she had endured such hardship. Ding Ling wondered if this was the final trial before a virtuous soul achieved enlightenment.

Back in Xue Family Alley, when offering food to the wandering spirits, Ding Ling had subtly woven He Xing’s energy into the ritual—since the offerings had been purchased by her.

The merits of offering food to wandering spirits and dedicating virtuous deeds in gratitude should be quite noticeable for ordinary people, often bringing a short-term boost in luck. But for He Xing, such things were trivial at best.

For Yan, the police announcement wasn’t just a sign that the incident involving He Xing was nearly resolved—what mattered more was that Officer Zheng Yi had transferred the reward money!

Two separate bonuses arrived simultaneously, just breaching the mid-five-figure mark.

Though people jokingly referred to spies as "walking half-a-million," the actual rewards ranged from the lowest tier of five thousand to the highest of five hundred thousand. As the saying went, unless you managed to lock an entire roomful of CIA operatives from the Asia division inside—along with a trove of classified intel—it was nearly impossible to claim the top-tier reward.

Yan did the math: after deducting the full payment for the custom-made peace lock for her goddaughter, she still had over thirty thousand left. Her little savings stash had suddenly grown plump again.

The peace lock was already finished, though neither she nor Zhu Jue had gone to pick it up yet. But staring at the freshly deposited cash, Yan couldn’t resist pulling out that ruby Lu Chen had given her from the cabinet.

She held it up with tweezers under the light, examining it closely, murmuring to herself, "I wonder how it’d look set in a ring with diamonds around it."

This was the scene He Xing walked in on, her backpack slung over one shoulder. The moment she saw the gem—roughly the size of a fingernail—her gaze sharpened.

It looked familiar. Too familiar.

Especially because… the cultivation technique within her instinctively reacted with a pull of attraction.

That thing wasn’t a ruby. It had to be a treasure from the world tied to the cultivation method she’d acquired.

He Xing slowly sifted through her memories. Since she’d returned with a cultivation technique—and feared practicing it recklessly without full recollection—the memories of that world were meant to unlock gradually.

She hadn’t recalled everything yet, but she was certain: this was no artifact that belonged in the modern world.

Yan… where had she gotten this?