Chapter 1: I'm not buying your act anymore

Outside the window, brilliant light shone into the dim room, casting a patch of light and shadow on the man on the bed whose consciousness was fuzzy.

The air was filled with a strong wine scent, somewhat pleasant; Wen Ling hugged her knees and crouched beside the bed, silently gazing at the drunken man, his normally pallid skin flushed with a blush, his former arrogance gone, the moisture at his eyes making him look somewhat fragile and pitiable.

Wen Ling suddenly moved close to him, slowly straddling his waist, and gently began to undo his shirt buttons.

She had barely undone a few when her hand was suddenly gripped tightly; Wen Ling's heart raced, and she lifted her gaze to the man.

The man's eyes were hazy, as if veiled by a thin mist, his vision unable to focus; his narrow eyes blinked before he could clearly see who was straddling him.

"Wen Ling." He called her name, his voice full of drunkenness.

Wen Ling gave a guilty "uh" and turned her face away, not daring to look at him.

"You finally came to see me in my dream……" His voice began to slur, yet his tone was full of utmost grievance: "It's been three years—why did you only come see me now?"

"Zhou Yinhe, I——"

But before she could finish, Zhou Yinhe rolled over and pinned her down, roughly biting her lip; Wen Ling gasped in pain, just about to tell him to be gentler when she heard him whisper: "Heartless bastard, I've missed you so much."

Wen Ling could no longer bear to say anything, letting him bite her, she broke free of his hold and went on to undo the remaining buttons.

Their shadows melded together, scattered clothes littered the floor, the black shirt and black skirt gradually piled up, the wine scent in the air slowly blending with another aroma, making anyone who smelled it blush.

Only when they were pressed chest to chest did Zhou Yinhe sense something off—this feeling was both unfamiliar and familiar, yet it shouldn't happen in a dream.

He lowered his gaze to the woman before him, her cheeks flushed crimson, the hand bracing on either side of her clenched, the pain bringing him a little clarity.

Why did it stop?

Wen Ling looked up at him in a daze, clearly feeling his frantic heartbeat and heat, thinking he was just drunk heavily and needed to calm down; her slender, fair hand hooked his neck and she flipped over.

After all, he had drunk a lot; the alcohol soaked his thoughts, scorching what little reason he had left, allowing himself to be dragged into the deep sea and tossed about.

The breath grew thick then gradually faded; Wen Ling lay on the bed's edge to steady her breathing, while Zhou Yinhe behind her suddenly bolted away as if seeing a flood beast.

"Wen... Ling." He enunciated her name sternly, syllable by syllable.

Wen Ling's hazy gaze met his eyes, still jade‑colored but already flushed with anger, and she trembled uncontrollably deep inside.

"When did you come back? How did I end up here!" he demanded.

Wen Ling snapped to attention at his words, bit her lip, sat up, pulled the blanket over herself, half her face covered, and said guiltily, "I came back yesterday…… I…… I had someone bring you here."

Before entering the hotel, his fragmented memories returned; Zhou Yinhe snorted coldly, irritably raking his messy hair, and sneered: "So those bodyguards are yours, huh? Haven't you had any men around these three years? You had to come back and make your ex‑boyfriend do this?"

Wen Ling's facial flush faded quickly, her face turning pallid as she stammered: "It's not like that; I, I regret it, and I was afraid you wouldn't want to see me, so I……"

Zhou Yinhe gave a cool "hah," his chest rising and falling as he suppressed the surging anger, gritting his teeth: "Miss Wen, you're quite something—you dump someone and then come back, thinking a simple 'I regret it' can summon and dismiss him at will?"

"It's really not, hear me out, okay? It's not what you think; I was originally because——" She leaned toward him, wanting to reach for his hand, but having spoken only halfway, her head felt as if countless tiny needles were pricking it; pain drove her to collapse on the bed, instantly breaking out in a cold sweat.

Zhou Yinhe thought she was just playing the victim, pursed his lips, picked up his clothes and put them on, and said coldly: "Stop pretending—I'm done with your act."

Even before they were together, Wen Ling often feigned fragility and distress to soften his heart, step by step reeling him in; once he was utterly enamored, she suddenly turned against him, ignoring his pleas and tossing him aside.

Wen Ling pressed her fingers to her temples, forced herself to sit up and shook her head; before she could say anything, she saw Zhou Yinhe turn and stride away.

Hearing the door slammed shut, Wen Ling went limp and collapsed onto the bed; the needle‑like pain in her head, which had been present when she was about to speak, had already vanished, and she stared blankly at the elaborate chandelier overhead.

So I can't tell Zhou Yinhe, but why can I tell Lu Zhaoye? Is it because Zhou Yinhe is the male lead in the book? Wen Ling furrowed her brows and sighed; she, the female lead who died once before awakening, the male lead's white moonlight, toxic, ex‑girlfriend—really pitiful.

The phone that had fallen to the floor suddenly rang, especially jarring in the quiet space; the distracted Wen Ling shuddered, got up, picked up the phone, threw on a robe, and answered while wearing it.

The man's voice from the other end was lax, sounding rather unserious.

"How's it going? Did you tell him?"

Wen Ling's lips drooped; she pursed her lips and said, "I had someone bring him over. He said I sought him out because I had no men around, and claimed I could summon and dismiss him at will. I wanted to tell him the truth, but the moment I opened my mouth, my head felt like it was being pricked by needles."

The man laughed outright without giving her face, stopping only when he sensed she was about to get angry, then drawled lazily: "I told you to take it slow, but you didn't believe me and insisted on trying, even snatching him while he was drunk and not sober; even if you could speak, he'd just think you're trying to trick him back into your hands."

"……" Wen Ling fell silent for a moment after hearing him, gathered her thoughts and steeled herself, saying to the man on the phone—and to herself: "Forget it, it's fine; sooner or later I'll coax him back."

The man encouraged: "Then you go for it."

Wen Ling hummed in agreement, her fingers combing the hair hanging in front of her.

"Since you can't tell him, what are you planning to do?" the man asked.

Wen Ling thought it over, couldn't come up with anything, and casually said: "Let's first get him back and talk later; right now the important thing is to expose the true nature of that green‑tea heroine!"

At that moment, the room door was knocked.

Wen Ling hung up and went to the foyer to open the door; it was the bodyguard she had just driven out to outside the hotel.

"Miss, we should leave quickly."

Wen Ling looked at the bruise on his face, frowned, and asked: "What happened to your face?"

The bodyguard lowered his head sheepishly and explained: "Just now, the bodyguards of the Zhou Family Fifth Master chased after us; we barely avoided a fight."

Back when she was in M Country, Wen Ling had people check—Zhou Yinhe now only has two bodyguards by his side, whereas she herself has six!