"Jian Youyou! Are you insane?!"
The car sped down the street, the night sliced apart by the neon lights' kaleidoscopic glow. Jian Youyou, with a "drunken haze" in her eyes, stared out the window at the neon scenery whipping past—though in truth, she was squinting through the glass, studying Yu Hekun seated beside her while fretting internally.
Even in his own car, Yu Hekun sat ramrod straight, his suit as immaculate as every strand of his hair. His white shirt was buttoned all the way up to his throat, his cold, pale profile devoid of any expression—aloof and silent, like a mannequin in a store window.
The novel’s description of him as fastidious, cold, and brooding was accurate, but after just three days in this world, Jian Youyou had learned one thing: his most unbearable trait wasn’t his temperament—it was his crippling, pathological cleanliness.
And now, the plot demanded that she, pretending to be drunk, throw herself at Yu Hekun, confess her feelings, and then—crucially—vomit all over him. This would disgust him so thoroughly that it would pave the way for the white moonlight heroine to take her place later. After all, what kind of person could stomach a love confession drenched in the stench of vomit? For someone like Yu Hekun, it would be enough to drive him mad.
The scene itself wasn’t hard. Jian Youyou was an expert at pissing people off—years of love-hate battles with her mother had seen to that. Those broom handles and feather dusters hadn’t broken against her back for nothing.
But the problem was the drunkenness.
Jian Youyou had never been drunk in her life. She’d seen drunk people before, sure, but she had no idea how to convincingly act the part.
The car was already turning into the villa district. If she didn’t act now, the moment would be lost—and with it, the chance to bring that diamond necklace around her neck back to the real world. She stole another glance at her reflection in the window, checking the flushed "drunken" makeup she’d applied in the banquet hall’s bathroom earlier. Taking a deep breath, she decided: Screw it, let’s go!
Just as the car smoothly rounded the bend into the villa area, Jian Youyou suddenly launched herself at Yu Hekun like a rabid dog. Half her body sprawled across him, her arms locking around his neck before he could react. She pressed herself flush against him, every curve of her body clinging to Yu Hekun’s frame. The force of her assault knocked him sideways—so violently that he didn’t even have time to brace himself before his head thunked against the window.
Jian Youyou winced at the sound. The novel’s description had only mentioned the female lead "hanging off Yu Hekun’s side," but surely this wasn’t too far off… right?
Yu Hekun let out a stifled gasp. The driver, catching sight of the scene in the rearview mirror, jerked the wheel in shock, sending the car briefly swerving.
No time to worry about whether she’d overdone it. Now was the moment for her lines.
"H-H-H… He Yu," Jian Youyou stammered, tears welling in her eyes as she tilted her face up—only to find herself nose-to-chin with Yu Hekun, his murderously dark gaze boring into her. Her stomach dropped. Shit. She’d messed up the name. Wasn’t his surname Yu?!
Yu Hekun’s neck was rigid, every muscle in his body tensed to the point of trembling. He stared at her like she was a glob of mud smeared across his pristine existence, his expression cracking apart in real time.
Jian Youyou quickly glossed over the mistake, slurring drunkenly as she nuzzled his jaw. "I-I broke the rules… I like, I like He—"
Damn it, wrong again!
She doubled down, cooing, "I like He-He…"
Her voice was a winding, exaggerated warble, matching the car’s erratic path. Yu Hekun’s hands hovered uselessly in the air, his face flushing from red to purple before he finally seized her shoulders in a shaking grip and tried to shove her off.
But who was Jian Youyou? A woman who could single-handedly carry a 45-yuan pot of rice noodles without breaking a sweat. Her arms might look slender, but her grip strength was nothing to scoff at.
She wasn’t about to let him ruin her performance—not when that diamond necklace was on the line.
She tightened her hold, locking him in place. Yu Hekun, despite his height and strength, was too disgusted to touch her properly. Hunched awkwardly in the confined space, he couldn’t break free.
Their struggle only pressed them closer. Jian Youyou’s mind raced—what was the next line? Oh, right. Time to vomit.
She had to puke on him.
She pulled him even closer, trying to work up the nausea. She swiped her tongue against the roof of her mouth, but—nothing. She wasn’t drunk, wasn’t carsick, and no amount of swaying was making her queasy.
What now?!
Just as Yu Hekun’s lips began turning blue from suppressed rage, he finally roared, "LET GO OF ME!"
Letting go wasn’t an option. Since she couldn’t vomit, Jian Youyou had a sudden epiphany: there was another way to make sure Yu Hekun never forgot this moment—and hated her for it.
"Jian Youyou! You’re insane!" Yu Hekun bellowed directly into her ear.
Jian Youyou ducked her head slightly, then—before she could second-guess herself—hooked her arms around his neck, pulled herself up, and bit his lip.
Yu Hekun froze like he’d been paused mid-action, his hands stiffening on her shoulders. Jian Youyou took advantage of his shock, her tongue slipping past his parted lips with ease. She explored lazily, surprised by how soft his mouth was.
For someone with such thin, stern-looking lips, they were unexpectedly plush—cool and yielding, like sucking on jelly. And despite his notorious cleanliness, his breath carried a faint minty freshness.
Not bad, she mused.
But the moment she pulled back and saw Yu Hekun’s bulging eyes and shattered expression, she knew she’d succeeded. This memory would haunt him just as thoroughly as a vomit-covered confession.
She released him, settling back into her seat and wiping her lips, watching his reaction.
Yu Hekun remained frozen, like a puppet with its strings cut. The car was nearly at the villa—he had to explode now for the scene to be complete.
It took him a few seconds, as if his brain had short-circuited from the sheer violation. But when the realization finally hit, it was spectacular.
He turned his head toward her with mechanical slowness, his eyes wide enough to crack at the edges. Jian Youyou shrank back slightly under his glare.
Her delicate makeup accentuated her otherwise plain features, and her lips, now slightly reddened from the kiss, gave her the look of a flower bud just beginning to bloom—hinting at a beauty not yet fully unfurled.
Unfortunately, Yu Hekun was in no mood to appreciate any budding flowers at the moment, because he had just been thoroughly drenched—like a sponge soaked to its limit!
Jian Youyou grew uneasy under his piercing gaze and the faint redness creeping into his eyes. According to the plot, the next step was for Yu Hekun to kick her out of the car, forcing her to walk back to the villa alone in the dark—barefoot, no less, until her feet were raw and bleeding. Honestly, Jian Youyou was reluctant, but such was the essence of this melodramatic storyline.
Yu Hekun remained silent, his stare making her scalp prickle. She parted her lips, unsure what to say, then had a sudden flash of inspiration—she pretended to faint.
Of course, it wasn’t a real faint. But given her "drunken" state, passing out cold seemed perfectly plausible.
Even after she "blacked out," Yu Hekun stayed motionless for a long while. Just as Jian Youyou began to hope she might avoid the dreaded walk back, the car abruptly stopped. Then Yu Hekun spoke, his voice hoarse. "Turn around."
She recalled his habit of showering three times a day—today’s incident must have pushed him over the edge. Mentally, she pitied him for three whole seconds.
Her fingers stealthily brushed the massive diamond necklace around her neck. Would this even count as completing the mission?
But soon, her sympathy for Yu Hekun evaporated, replaced by self-pity. They had already reached the villa gates when he ordered the driver to turn around and drive some distance before stopping again.
Jian Youyou dutifully played the part of a passed-out drunk, a sinking feeling in her stomach. Then Yu Hekun’s voice cut through the silence. "Get out."
What a petty man! They’d been right at the villa entrance, yet he deliberately made the driver loop back!
She kept her eyes shut, stubborn as a turtle retreating into its shell, refusing to budge. Outside was pitch black—not that she was scared, but she’d already succeeded in leaving a deep psychological scar on Yu Hekun. As for the bleeding feet? The plot had only mentioned it in half a sentence—surely it wasn’t that important.
But luck wasn’t on her side. Yu Hekun, ever the vindictive schemer, saw through her act. When she still didn’t move, he got out himself, circled to her side, and yanked the door open. Looming over her, he wiped his mouth roughly, hard enough to draw a few streaks of blood, then spat in disgust. His shirt collar was smeared red, and Jian Youyou’s face was half pale, half flushed.
"Still pretending?" he sneered, voice icy.
Her eyelashes fluttered involuntarily, and she swallowed nervously.
"Get. Out." He repeated, his tone rising sharply—clearly at his breaking point.
In the original plot, Jian Youyou was terrified of the dark. Drunk and disoriented, she would have begged Yu Hekun tearfully, only for him to abandon her anyway—punishment for crossing his bottom line.
But this impostor Jian Youyou wasn’t afraid of the dark. And compared to the original’s offense, hers was like dancing on graves versus taking a pickaxe to the ancestral tomb.
Yu Hekun, who normally recoiled from physical contact, was so furious he nearly saw red. Dignity forgotten, a bead of blood still on his lip, he reached in and grabbed her himself.
When his cold, large hands seized the back of her neck and hauled her out of the car, Jian Youyou clung desperately to her diamond necklace—no matter what, she couldn’t lose this treasure!
