"You're utterly shameless!"
By the time everyone lunged forward in horror, pulling Julie off Yu Hekun and restraining her, Yu Hekun was already in a dazed, soulless state. The back of his neck and the side of his face were damp—clearly, Julie had left her mark. And likely due to the chaotic stumble when she pounced, he was now sprawled on the ground with his feet twisted awkwardly, his dress shoes rotated 180 degrees, the heels resting on the tops of his feet.
Jian Youyou didn’t bother squeezing into the commotion, watching as the others scrambled to help. But when Yu Hekun was finally hauled up, his mental state reminded her, with cruel amusement, of those scenes in period dramas where virtuous young maidens were defiled. Those tragic heroines’ expressions gradually overlapped with Yu Hekun’s lifeless, devastated face.
The chaos ended with Julie being locked away. However, Yu Hekun, who had suffered a tremendous shock, didn’t head to work on time. Just as they were about to carry him to the car for the hospital, he suddenly jolted upright like a dying man clinging to life, stubbornly insisting on dragging his limping leg back inside to wash up, his eyes bloodshot.
The Yu family servants were well aware of Yu Hekun’s temperament, so they reluctantly helped him back to his room. Jian Youyou, who had been trailing behind the crowd, also returned to her own quarters.
After changing her clothes, she reheated the breakfast Yu Hekun had skipped earlier and ate it, then waited in the living room for a while before Yu Hekun finally reappeared—dressed impeccably in his suit, limping as he was supported downstairs.
"Still going to work?" Since he was, after all, her benefactor, Jian Youyou rose from the sofa and feigned concern.
Aunt Yun, following behind Yu Hekun, kindly explained, "No, Miss Jian. The young master injured his leg. We’re taking him to the hospital now."
Jian Youyou remembered she was supposed to be playing the devoted lover. Though she’d much rather go back upstairs and nap, it wouldn’t be fitting to show indifference now.
So she immediately said, "Then I’ll come too!"
Yu Hekun glanced at her sideways, his expression blank, then looked away without a word—implicitly allowing it.
A few minutes later, Jian Youyou sat in the back seat next to Yu Hekun, who was rigidly upright, his face dark and stormy. If not for the bright sunshine outside, she might have thought she’d time-traveled back to that first night when she’d entered this storyline.
But by her calculations, the second major plot point was approaching. With Yu Hekun’s leg in this state, the upcoming birthday cruise scene in two days would be tricky to navigate.
Today, Jian Youyou had simply thrown on a casual white cotton maxi dress, her hair loose, giving off a soft, harmless vibe. Her eyes held a detached coolness, but she occasionally fixed them on Yu Hekun with an air of innocent fascination.
Noticing her gaze, Yu Hekun stiffened further, afraid to move lest he lose his composure. He could only turn his neck to glare at her. "What are you staring at?"
With that same guileless expression, Jian Youyou replied bluntly, "You."
She paused, then added, "You’re so handsome."
Uncle Lin, still the driver, kept the car steady this time, showing no signs of swerving—though he couldn’t resist checking Yu Hekun’s reaction in the rearview mirror.
Yu Hekun’s eye twitched. He turned away with a muttered "How shallow," but inwardly, little flower-shaped bubbles of delight began popping up uncontrollably.
Everyone knew bitter medicine was good for you and harsh words held truth, but most people still preferred sugar and flattery. That was just human nature.
Jian Youyou couldn’t decipher Yu Hekun’s brooding expression, so after her compliment, she earnestly asked, "Earlier, when you fell, Julie stepped on your waist. Doesn’t it hurt?"
One of Yu Hekun’s mental bubbles burst with a pop. He turned to her, brow furrowed.
Jian Youyou pointed at his injured leg, still stubbornly crossed in a princely pose. "And your shoe was twisted all the way around. Doesn’t crossing your legs like that make it go numb?"
Pop, pop, pop—Yu Hekun’s inner bubbles shattered one after another. His frown deepened, his expression souring. One of his eyes, having endured repeated trauma, was now spiderwebbed with red veins, making him look downright terrifying.
But Jian Youyou wasn’t as scared as before. After several encounters, she’d figured out that Yu Hekun was a bit of a loose cannon, prone to mood swings—but mostly, he was all bark and no bite. Like Bian Xia’s bedridden mother, he could bluster all he wanted, but he had a good heart.
So this time, she didn’t back down. Instead, she patted her slender but sturdy shoulder and sincerely suggested, "Why don’t you lean on me? Relax your waist and leg a bit. You don’t want it getting worse before we reach the hospital."
Uncle Lin tightened his grip on the wheel. Aunt Yun blinked, glancing back at the two.
Yu Hekun scoffed. "What nonsense are you spouting? Me, lean on you?" He jabbed a finger at himself, his disdain palpable. With that bloodshot eye, he looked like a hardened criminal.
"Me? Lean on you?" He snorted, poking Jian Youyou’s forehead. "If you’re coming along, sit still and behave!"
Jian Youyou didn’t mind having her kindness thrown back in her face. She obediently settled back into her seat. But Yu Hekun, annoyed that she didn’t insist further, started nitpicking. "And what’s with this outfit today? Do you even remember what your role is?"
Confused, Jian Youyou looked at him, only for Yu Hekun to unleash a rapid-fire critique: "I’ve noticed—you put on an act for a few days after moving in, but now you’ve dropped the act, huh? Back to your true self. And earlier—did you whistle at me?"
Yes, I whistled while saving your ungrateful hide, Jian Youyou deadpanned inwardly.
Yu Hekun sneered. "Tell me the truth—were you some street punk before this? Did you pretend to be demure just to get close to me?"
Jian Youyou instinctively reached to adjust glasses she no longer wore, as if studying some bizarre specimen. Though she’d physically entered this novel’s world, the plot had subtly shifted around her presence.
She knew that before her arrival, there hadn’t been a living "original" version of her character—just a preset role. But her crossing over had filled that role, complete with changes like her 400-degree myopia vanishing and her wardrobe aligning with the character’s supposed tastes—even today’s dress.
She’d once asked the system if every character, from the leads to the extras, were just roles like hers. The system had dodged the question, offering no clear answer. So in a way, Jian Youyou struggled to see anyone here—including Yu Hekun—as real people.
The only thing she knew for certain? The money here could be taken back to her world.
And that was enough.
As for what Yu Hekun would say or do, most of it was dictated by his character setting.
Jian Youyou wouldn’t be the least bit upset by his words, no matter how venomous they became—his mouth might as well have just sipped poisoned wine.
“Look at what you’re wearing—like you’re in mourning. Why are your clothes always so bizarre? Don’t you own anything normal?”
This morning, she’d worn a risqué skirt for her workout, and now she was dressed like she was attending a funeral. Yu Hekun genuinely couldn’t comprehend it.
Jian Youyou glanced down at herself and thought, As if I want to dress like this.
But then her eyes lit up as she remembered something, and a sweet smile spread across her face. She leaned closer to Yu Hekun and coaxed, “President Yu, why don’t you buy me a few outfits? My closet is full of clothes like these, and since you don’t like them, it’s practically my fault.”
The sudden promotion to “President Yu” made his brow arch. He gave her a look that said, I’ve seen right through your little act, and replied coldly, “I believe the allowance I’ve given you already covers dressing up to please me.”
In the novels Jian Youyou read, this was usually the moment when the domineering CEO would pull out his wallet, produce a sleek black card—unlimited, of course—and toss it at her with a line like, “Woman, go spend.” She was fully expecting a card to smack her in the face, but instead, she got this from Yu Hekun.
His stinginess stunned her. His family’s empire was renowned worldwide—the novel had spelled it out clearly. He was filthy rich, yet he pinched pennies over a mistress’s wardrobe?
Jian Youyou’s competitive streak flared. She rolled her neck and shamelessly declared, “I sent all that money to my mom. She’s worked hard raising me, after all. So, President Yu, if my clothes really bother you that much…”
She grabbed the hem of her skirt and started lifting it. “I’ll just take this off and let you see what’s underneath. I am yours, after all—you’ll see it sooner or later…”
Yu Hekun nearly choked on his own saliva. Seeing her actually go for it, he stammered, “H-hey—hey!” His rigid posture faltered as he frantically grabbed her wrist to stop her.
Jian Youyou blinked innocently at him. Yu Hekun, inexplicably flushed with secondhand embarrassment, didn’t dare let go, knowing her habit of stripping at the slightest provocation. “You’re shameless!” he snapped.
Leaning back in her seat, Jian Youyou knew she had him hooked. She wasn’t some exhibitionist—she wouldn’t strip in public. Besides, underneath this oversized dress, she was just wearing a T-shirt and denim shorts.
This led to a well-known universal truth: You never know what a girl is really wearing beneath her flowy, ethereal dress.
She was just teasing Yu Hekun. Seeing him play along so perfectly, she pressed her advantage. “Well, since I don’t have any decent clothes…”
“Fine, I’ll buy them!” Yu Hekun, still gripping her skirt, red-faced and exasperated, finally relented. “I’ll buy them, alright?”
Jian Youyou flashed a bright grin, then leaned in and planted a loud, smacking kiss on his cheek—now just inches away—cooing sweetly, “President Yu, you’re the best!”
