Chapter 56: The Hidden Strength

“You don’t care what people say about you?” Chen Huanyue fell silent for a moment, then asked softly.

“Fine. I can handle it.”

The air fell still for a while; neither spoke, and a strange atmosphere seemed to rise between them.

“You used to care a lot about others’ opinions,” Chen Huanyue gazed at her, as if recalling something, “Back in school, you wouldn’t even walk with me—you were afraid people would call you ‘gold-digger’ or something like that.”

Yang Yi smiled too, shrugging her shoulders. “Because back then I was truly penniless, with no confidence. Being with you felt like too much pressure. If I’d had money, or family background, or talent, or beauty, I could’ve walked beside you without a care for anyone’s gaze. But I had nothing—just a plain ugly duckling, with nothing but shame, clinging to a pathetic sense of pride just to hold onto appearances. Of course I cared what people thought.”

Chen Huanyue looked at her deeply. “You’ve changed so much. You never used to tell me things like this…”

“Because now I have everything. A poor person doesn’t show others her torn underwear, but a rich man proudly boasts about how broke he used to be.” Yang Yi forced a humorous tone: “I’m that rich man now.”

“So you have a way to deal with them?” Chen Huanyue’s eyes lit up with anticipation.

"If you mean dealing with these people's petty tricks, I have no way. You know—I've never been particularly clever, and I've never been good at socializing." Yang Yi smiled faintly:

“I only know one thing: no matter how much they belittle me, how much they curse me, how much they say I’m undeserving—if I solve the crisis in Wuming City, they’ll turn around and praise me, thank me, admire me…”

“I even hope they drag me into the mud, curse me as harshly as they can, paint me as utterly powerless—so when I defeat the Brain-Sucking Beast, their regret, praise, and reverence will bring me double the pleasure and satisfaction.”

Yang Yi felt she was speaking absurdly. Today she’d said too many things uncharacteristic of her, yet she had no intention of stopping—she even wanted to say more.

She felt as if she’d put on a mask of arrogance and recklessness, like a clown on stage, with only Chen Huanyue as her sole audience.

This wasn’t an answer to his question—it was more like a long-suppressed outpouring, a pretext to revisit the past.

A sudden, inexplicable impulse stirred within her. She gazed at Chen Huanyue almost feverishly—this former boyfriend she’d once wanted to love but dared not, wanted to approach but also wanted to flee, the man who had witnessed every shrinking, impoverished moment of her university days:

“Have you heard a story? A billionaire who loved nothing more than walking the streets in tattered clothes, letting people shove him, treat him like a beggar, scorn him, drive him away, insult him—only then, when he revealed his true identity as a billionaire, would their shock and regret bring him joy, immense pleasure.”

She knew she looked terrible, but she had no intention of stopping. At this moment, she didn’t even mind revealing her own meanness and shamelessness, exposing her dark inner self—best of all, to contrast sharply with the good side she’d once deliberately shown him, to completely overturn the impression she’d left on him.

Yang Yi displayed a deliberately careless, brazen air: “To me, that billionaire didn’t even need to reveal his wealth to make people look at him differently. Better to let them keep scorning him, insulting him, shoving him around—because the quiet awareness of one’s own strength is more satisfying than deliberately showing it off.”

“Think about it: they despise me, reject me, hate me—they think I’m worthless, insignificant. But I know I’m invincible. I can control the fate of every one of them. All I have to do is lift a hand, and I turn clouds into rain, rain into clouds. Just knowing that alone is enough to satisfy me.”

She realized she had to stop. She’d said too many inappropriate things today, and they served her no good.

Reason told her to stop immediately, to backtrack, to soften it—but that inexplicable impulse pushed her to vent more, to speak even more wildly.

Finally, she forced herself to brake hard.

Only then did she turn her eyes toward Chen Huanyue for the first time, gazing at him strangely. “Isn’t that right?” She sounded as if seeking his opinion, yet it felt more like saying, “This is how it is.”

Chen Huanyue looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. His gaze no longer held the lingering longing and hope from their first meeting yesterday—it was alien, stunned.

This shock delighted her. She knew—this was exactly what she wanted.

She wanted to shatter every impression he had of her—the timid, shy, withdrawn, anxious girl, a mix of insecurity and pride—she wanted that girl to vanish completely, not just in reality, but from every mind.

Chen Huanyue suddenly understood: once, she cared about him, cared what he thought of her, so she hid herself, carefully showing only her best side, terrified he’d look down on her.

But now, she didn’t care about him at all. She didn’t care what he thought, how he saw her, not even whether he still… loved her…

That’s why she could speak so openly, with a vengeful outburst, deliberately over-the-top in her arrogance.

He’d never known how deeply she loathed, how bitterly she hated that past. He’d once thought she, like him, looked back on their university romance with nostalgia—even if not as intensely as he had.

Realizing this, his face turned pale.

He slowly pulled himself back, refusing to show her any sign of disarray. He deliberately maintained his elegant composure, appearing mature and composed: “So you’ve found a way to deal with the Brain-Sucking Beast? Then I’m relieved. May you succeed!”

He turned to leave, yet inexplicably, against his will, glanced at her expression—those dark eyes he’d once gazed upon countless times—searching for even a trace of familiarity, a hint of restrained smile.

But suddenly, he thought he saw, on her profile, a deep sorrow—as if she were shrouded in a vast shadow, forever unable to escape.

He paused, then looked again—only to see her turn her head, coldly asking: “What? Is there something else?”

As if the previous moment had been an illusion.

“Nothing. You… rest well,” Chen Huanyue whispered, stepping back and closing the door behind him.

Yang Yi stared blankly at the door, frozen like a stone statue for a long time.