She's a Passerby, But Can See the Protagonist's Halo-Chapter 145

Today was an "emotionally saturated" day for several people—recognizing godparents, attending a wedding, and the dramatic twists at the ceremony left everyone still reeling.

"Alright, alright," Zhu Jue and Xiao Qingnang each reached out to separate their wrestling friends—Yuan Ye, Boss Chu, and Ye Ping'an—pulling the playful bunch apart.

"Your clothes are all wrinkled," Yan remarked.

"Let’s send them to the hotel laundry and request washing and pressing services."

"Good idea," Chu Shen immediately agreed.

Since they’d be changing into sleepwear anyway, handing the clothes over to the hotel meant they could wake up to freshly laundered and pressed outfits.

After a long, exhausting day and some casual chatter, everyone retreated to their rooms, leaving only Yan and Zhu Jue in the luxury suite they’d booked earlier.

Once their friends were gone, Yan finally felt the fatigue set in.

They were staying in the suite’s secondary bedroom, which had its own bathroom with a bathtub. While Yan changed into her sleep robe, she noticed Zhu Jue had already scrubbed the tub clean and was now filling it with water.

They hadn’t originally planned to stay out tonight, so they hadn’t brought many essentials, but fortunately, the hotel’s provided amenities were excellent.

Zhu Jue was still wearing his three-piece groomsman suit, though he’d removed the outer jacket, leaving him in a vest and shirt. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing toned forearms as he worked with water.

Yan sneaked up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

She pressed her face against his back, her warm breath brushing his skin.

Zhu Jue had been standing at the sink, carefully unwrapping various toiletries. After washing and drying his hands, he gently clasped Yan’s slender fingers, turned around, and pulled her into a quiet embrace.

When exhausted, clinging tightly to a loved one felt like slowly recharging.

After a while, Yan tilted her head at the sound of running water. "Is the bath ready?"

Before the porcelain-white tub, Yan tossed in a bath bomb, instantly transforming the water into a dreamy hue.

Zhu Jue had already laid out a bath mat, and Yan stepped onto it barefoot, waving at him contentedly.

Zhu Jue chuckled. "Lady Yan, this humble servant shall take his leave now."

The hot water enveloped her completely, the warmth of the tub so soothing it nearly lulled her to sleep.

Yan rested a fist under her chin, lost in thought about the strange aura she’d seen at the wedding today.

[Transmigrated into a Novel]

The bride at today’s wedding, Miss Sheng Qing, had the words "Transmigrated into a Novel" floating above her head—the first time Yan had seen such a thing.

The term "transmigrated" was easy enough to understand—like Gu Jiasui’s "Ancient to Modern" label.

But Sheng Qing’s "Transmigrated into a Novel" gave Yan pause. Did it mean she’d crossed over into a book?

The groom running away and the last-minute replacement were certainly dramatic enough to be straight out of fiction.

If this aura meant entering a novel’s world, was tonight’s wedding the original plot or an altered development?

Yan’s mind buzzed with questions, but even after her bath, she still had no answers.

The hotel bed was incredibly soft. While Zhu Jue showered, she lay there scrolling through her phone.

Long ago, after the incident involving Lan Ruo and Xie Zhen, Yan had followed a few high-society gossip accounts recommended by Boss Tu.

Sure enough, the scandal from tonight’s wedding was already making waves!

By the time Zhu Jue stepped out of the bathroom, Yan was sitting on the bed, eyes wide and glued to her phone, utterly engrossed.

He ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‍tiptoed over, unscrewed a bottle of the hotel’s complimentary volcanic mineral water, and set it on the nightstand.

"What are you reading?"

"Gossip about today’s wedding," Yan said, looking up.

"Jue, come up here quick—it’s wild!" Her eyes sparkled with the thrill of juicy drama.

The king-sized bed gave Zhu Jue plenty of space to climb in from the other side. He tested the mattress’s firmness and felt the pillows.

"Should we switch the pillows? Are these too hard?" The hotel offered six options—two soft, two firm, plus latex and buckwheat pillows. ƒгeewebnovёl.com

"No need. I actually sleep better with firm ones," Yan shook her head.

"This soft one’s a bit too plush—my back feels unsupported." She was propped against the headboard, and Zhu Jue adjusted the pillow behind her.

His arm slid beneath her waist, his broad hand naturally resting against her abdomen.

His palm radiated warmth like a natural heating pad, quietly serving as her personal hot-water bottle.

As they nestled closer, Yan settled into her human-shaped recliner and eagerly relayed the latest scoop she’d dug up online.

"Jue, listen—the runaway groom was apparently a high-school heartthrob, a rich second-gen. This gossip reads like a novel!"

Zhu Jue took her phone, holding it where they could both see. Yan swiped to the most explosive post and pointed.

"This one right here."

[TONIGHT’S SHOCKING SCANDAL! The Sheng-Qing-Feng-Hao arranged marriage COLLAPSES! The "ugly duckling" from Gold Mountain High transforms into a swan—Feng the Third flees the wedding to chase his love overseas! Meanwhile, Princess Sheng replaces the groom last-minute with tech mogul Mr. Xie!]

The gossip account accepted submissions, and the comments section was flooded with reactions.

[I need updates! How did Feng the Third and Sheng Qing grow up betrothed, only for him to ditch her at the altar? And who’s this new groom?]

[Anyone else think Feng’s just using this as an excuse to flee the country and avoid his family’s mess?]

[Who’s the "ugly duckling"??]

[Replying above: International rising designer Lou Yun. Three years as Feng’s classmate—here’s their graduation photo. She’s already built her own brand.]

...

From the flood of comments and leaks across platforms, netizens pieced together a story that, stripped of emotions, went like this:

The original groom abandoned his childhood fiancée—a marriage of alliance—on their wedding day. With help from his "bros," he fled to Europe to pursue his high-school sweetheart, the scholarship student who’d shared his desk for three years.

The jilted heiress, Sheng Qing, was beautiful, proud, and followed an artistic path—the epitome of a "blue-blooded princess."

The runaway groom’s high-school sweetheart, once an unremarkable "ugly duckling," had since blossomed into a "swan."

"This is practically a textbook story template," Yan groaned to Zhu Jue.

"In fairy tales, it's always about the prince giving up the neighboring princess arranged for political marriage and choosing the Cinderella-like ugly duckling who once accompanied him, then receiving everyone's blessings—the end. But no one ever cares about the neighboring princess. Or Cinderella’s own feelings," Zhu Jue finished the unspoken thought for her.

Yan nodded emphatically. "The comments are already praising him for pursuing true love. What a joke. If the bride hadn’t acted decisively, this runaway groom stunt would’ve ruined her reputation."

"It’s obvious he never wanted this marriage. He had so much time before the wedding to resolve things, but by running away, he just shifted the conflict onto the two women," Yan grumbled, frustration clear in her voice.

Now, the comment section was flooded with people digging up comparisons between the two women—ugly duckling, white swan, black swan—while the runaway groom conveniently faded into the background.

"Don’t be upset. We shouldn’t waste energy on people who aren’t worth it," Zhu Jue soothed, lifting his hand from her stomach to intertwine their fingers, swaying them gently.

Yan pouted. "I shouldn’t have read this gossip. The more I think about it, the angrier I get."

"If Sheng Qing hadn’t transmigrated into the book, things would’ve turned out completely differently."

Zhu Jue set his phone aside, and the two leaned into each other.

"Jue, do you think the groom Sheng Qing chose at the last minute today is really the right one for her?" Yan murmured, her voice subdued.

"I don’t know," Zhu Jue answered honestly after a moment of thought.

He held Yan’s hand tightly, replaying the scene from the wedding in his mind.

"He clearly prepared that ring in advance, even had it photographed, but waited until today. If the bride, Miss Sheng, hadn’t switched grooms at the last moment, I wonder if he would’ve kept silent forever," Zhu Jue said slowly.

"If today’s upheaval hadn’t happened, he would’ve just watched the woman he loves walk into a wedding with someone else—even after preparing such a gift. I can’t understand that."

"If he came as a friend to celebrate the wedding, it would’ve been better not to give that ring at all. A diamond ring as a wedding gift? That’s just inappropriate."

If any man dared to present a special diamond ring as a congratulatory gift at his and Yan’s wedding, Zhu Jue would hunt him to the ends of the earth.

Yan rested her head in the crook of Zhu Jue’s arm, staring at the ceiling.

"Based on the halo over Sheng Qing’s head, if her story is a book, then what are we?"

"In the original book, the bride Sheng Qing wasn’t the female lead. We probably didn’t even have names."

"Maybe in the altered version, we’re just named extras—background characters," Yan mused.

"Then everyone today was a background character," Zhu Jue said.

Tonight’s wedding—whether the guests or the hastily recruited groomsmen—were all insignificant bystanders in the eyes of the true protagonists.

"Stories always revolve around a select few," Zhu Jue remarked.

"But we’re still us," Yan turned her head to look at him, her eyes bright.

Passersby brush against others’ stories, intersecting briefly before inevitably returning to their own lives.

Soft, lingering kisses traced her eyelids and collarbone. The ambient lights in the room flicked off one by one under the reach of an outstretched arm, leaving only the quiet rhythm of restrained breaths and shared warmth to lull them to sleep.

Tomorrow, perhaps they’d wander into another story.