She's a Passerby, But Can See the Protagonist's Halo-Chapter 121

Yan recalled the incident and couldn’t help but shake her head with a wry smile. "That was back at the start of the semester. The other one’s already collapsed."

Lin Anran listened quietly, curiosity piqued.

From the sound of it, was her godmother not a first-time rescuer?

She silently noted the names mentioned and discreetly searched on her phone, making sure it was on silent mode. Since she was separated from her "godmother" by her mother, she wasn’t worried about being caught.

Lin Anran combined the names she’d picked up with keywords like "rescued" and immediately found what she was looking for.

Good ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‍grief, it was a whole chain of drama—she’d have to read through it slowly.

Since the car was still moving, she only skimmed the highlights before exiting to avoid motion sickness. But she did watch the video of her godmother’s split-second rescue.

Lin Anran was still stunned.

What kind of reflexes were those?!

Turning to Yan, she asked curiously, "That portable tool you used earlier—can it be bought? It seems really useful to carry around."

Yan hadn’t expected the question but nodded.

"You can buy similar ones, but the ones on the market usually won’t pass airport or train security checks. Ours are custom-made."

Multitools like Swiss Army knives, multi-cards, tool pliers, or all-in-one nail clippers were fine for walking or driving, but they’d be confiscated at subway stations, train stations, or airports.

Yet accidents always seemed to happen on public transport.

After having their tools confiscated for the nth time, Yan and Jue Jue decided enough was enough. Together with Da Bao and Xiao Bao, they designed a personal multitool made from a special material that could bypass security checks.

The two of them mainly provided requirements, critiques, and nitpicks, while Da Bao and Xiao Bao handled the actual development.

In the end, they not only created the tool but also developed a new, classified material. The patent was handed over to the authorities, making their version the only one of its kind in the world.

Lin Anran sensed something off about her godmother’s explanation. The phrase "custom-made" wasn’t a boast—it was just a simple statement of fact.

But who in their right mind would custom-make something like that?!

And why did she say it so matter-of-factly?!

"Is it because you run into accidents often?" Lin Anran asked before noticing her mother’s sharp glance. She’d apparently touched on a sensitive topic.

Yan thought for a moment. "The probability is a bit higher than average, I suppose."

"But it might also be what’s called the... what’s the term? Like when you carry a tool just in case, you start noticing more situations where it could be useful—and then you actually end up using it."

Lin Anran hummed in understanding.

Put another way, if encountering accidents was considered bad luck or some kind of bizarre innate trait, then her godparents seemed to have an even stronger version of it than "that person."

Could this be the reason why this world differed from hers?

Considering "that person" and her godfather had been roommates since college, it made sense that her godparents’ overwhelming presence had suppressed his natural talent for attracting trouble.

The question was—how long would this "suppression" last?

Especially now that he was about to start commuting by subway, Lin Anran could already imagine daily mishaps triggered by him, disrupting the current family harmony.

Because of what happened in the other world, she wished her mother would divorce him immediately. But seeing this version of her family—her younger self, the peaceful household—she hesitated to interfere, let alone tell her mother about the other timeline.

After all, none of it had happened here. Since last year, everything had taken a different turn.

Her heart was torn.

If this happiness would eventually shatter, wouldn’t it be better to end it now?

Her mother wouldn’t die as collateral damage from his recklessness. She wouldn’t lose her parents young and suffer through hardship alone.

Lin Anran didn’t want this world’s version of herself and her mother to endure the same pain.

But she also couldn’t bring herself to reveal events that, to them, hadn’t even occurred.

It would only create distrust and fractures in the family, needlessly destroying her mother and Little An An’s current happiness.

She wanted to cut the knot cleanly—but she couldn’t.

These days, Lin Anran’s heart had been swinging between resolve and anguish.

She didn’t know how long she could stay in this world.

All she knew was that, for as long as she remained, she would keep watching him.

To prevent him from triggering accidents on his commute, she had to come up with a plan.

Meanwhile, Yan and Lin Lu were discussing Jiasui’s documentary and new drama, completely unaware of Lin Anran’s thoughts.

Lunch was at Hai Di Lao hotpot, with a four-flavor broth so everyone could pick what they liked. It was also convenient for preparing baby food for Little An An.

After enjoying the meal, Yan and Jue Jue hitched a ride to Chu Shen’s small restaurant to pick up their takeout Yangzhou fried rice. It was Lin Fan’s first time bringing his family here.

"Oh no, I’m worried now. If my daughter gets hooked on this fried rice, what do I do afterward?" Lin Fan was genuinely concerned.

The allure of Chu Shen’s fried rice was hard for even adults to resist. Could a child handle it? If she started demanding it every day, he’d be helpless.

"The low-oil, no-salt version should be fine, right?" Yan suggested.

At noon, they only had fried dough sticks and noodles as staples for hotpot. Now, Lin Fan brought his sister-in-law over for the first time, and Chu Shen took the initiative to showcase his signature fried rice.

Lin Anran took a bite of the fried rice.

The next moment, she looked up and said, "Maybe we shouldn’t let Little An An have any."

Even as an adult, she couldn’t resist devouring it—if her younger self tasted this fried rice, she might develop an eating disorder later!

Lin Lu wasn’t trying it for the first time. Before this, Lin Fan had brought back takeout specially prepared by Chu Shen, but reheating it at home couldn’t compare to the fresh, on-the-spot flavor.

Even though they’d just finished hotpot, their stomachs somehow still had plenty of room for more.

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Little An An had already eaten a lot at noon, but now her parents and her "grown-up self" were firmly refusing to feed her.

"She had plenty of baby food earlier. Kids don’t know when they’re full and can easily overeat, which might lead to picky eating habits later," Lin Lu declared. It wasn’t that they were stingy—it’s just that she knew all too well the magic of her husband’s roommate’s little restaurant.

For adults, addiction might just hurt their wallets, but if a child started demanding it every day, where would they even get it?

"Is it really that serious? What’s the harm in letting her have one bite? If she asks for it later, can’t I just make it for her?" Chu Shen found their overreaction amusing. Seeing Little An An’s longing gaze as she watched the adults eat melted his heart.

"An An, call me godfather, and I’ll make you as much as you want," he said, patting his chest proudly after learning about the newly minted godparents nearby. "How could I miss out on this?"

Hearing this, Lin Anran, who had been silently devouring her meal, glanced up at her "second godfather"—the fried rice godfather. She’d remember that.

After their fried rice afternoon tea, Yan and Jue Jue took their packed meals in insulated bags and boarded the bus back to campus, while Lin Fan and the others headed home to continue babysitting.

At the school gate, Yan handed her dorm’s portion to Yi Zhi, who came to pick it up, and Jue Jue gave theirs to Yuan Ye.

The two of them weren’t ready to return to the dorm just yet. After two days away, they had a lot to talk about while strolling around.

"Jue Jue, what kind of gifts should we get for Big An An and Little An An? For newborns, a longevity lock is pretty standard, right?"

A promise is a promise.

Since they’d already brought up the idea of becoming godparents, they couldn’t just leave it at words.

"Should we ask Boss Tu for recommendations? Or check out Boss Xu’s shop?" Zhu Jue suggested.

"Yeah! Maybe something jade or gold-inlaid jade. ‘Anran’ means ‘peaceful’—a longevity lock would suit her perfectly," Yan mused.

The idea of having a goddaughter had actually been Jue Jue’s first. He’d been utterly enchanted by the sweet, soft Little An An, his eyes practically glued to her.

"An An is so adorable. I wonder what our own baby would look like… but giving birth sounds so hard," Yan said, her face scrunching up like a bitter melon at the thought.

Zhu Jue tightened his grip on her hand, a faint smile on his lips as he gently pinched her cheek.

"We won’t have one."

"We already have a goddaughter—we can just steal her."

Yan stared at him, wide-eyed. "Jue Jue, you’re actually plotting against An An? Lin Fan would duel you if he knew."

Softly, she asked, "Were you scared by Big An An today?"

Zhu Jue thought for a moment. "Not scared, just… surprised."

"We might never know what happened between her and her father to create such a rift."

"They have issues, but issues can usually be resolved."

"What I’m afraid of are the ones that can’t be." He lowered his head, pulling her close as they sat on a bench in the grove.

He really did adore Little An An—seeing traces of both Lin Fan and Lin Lu in her tiny face.

Like people often say, children are the crystallization of love.

He wanted to be with Yan every second, to marry her immediately. The moment he saw Little An An, he couldn’t help imagining what their own child might look like.

But he knew all too well the toll childbirth took on the body—the price was far too high.

Ten months of pregnancy, all the physiological suffering borne by the mother alone.

Men just had to provide sperm and wait for the "fruit to ripen." A child could tie a woman down.

From morning sickness to vomiting, loss of appetite, gestational diabetes, lumbar strain, uterine prolapse, pelvic pain, tearing… not to mention the risks of difficult labor, hemorrhaging, and life-threatening complications—the list of potential horrors was endless.

And yet, before childbirth, few ever truly warned expectant mothers about these realities.

Children were treated as a given in every household, while the physical damage to mothers remained widely overlooked.

Wealth and comfort—like staying at a postpartum care center—could ease some burdens, but many of the injuries from childbirth itself were irreversible. The mother’s nutrients went to the baby, her hormones prioritizing the newborn over even the father.

Zhu Jue refused to let her face even a fraction of that risk.

He would never allow her to suffer.

Compared to a hypothetical child, nothing mattered more than the woman right in front of him.

Yan studied Jue Jue’s face—his expression was dead serious.

"The risks are too great. We’re not having one."

"There are plenty of people on Earth handling procreation. They won’t miss our contribution."

"Unless, one day, men can carry babies—then we’ll talk."