Chapter 10 Villain!

The new house was nestled in the outskirts—a small, refined villa. The very next day, Jiang Yao and Ye Yiyi moved in.

“Achoo!” Wrapped in a blanket, Jiang Yao sneezed as she cleaned.

Ye Yiyi had thrown up three times the previous night; now, she still looked unsteady, clutching a vase in her hands. “You’re sick, Yao, rest a bit. Let me help you.”

“Ancestor!” Jiang Yao saw the vase slipping from Ye Yiyi’s grasp and hurried over to catch it, then firmly pressed Ye Yiyi onto the sofa. “You’re the one who needs to rest.”

Ye Yiyi took the opportunity to grab a cushion and hug it. “Yao, I forgot to mention something when we were drinking last night. There’s something you should know.”

Jiang Yao mopped the floor without looking up. “What is it?”

“I heard the neighbors here are pretty strange,” Ye Yiyi whispered conspiratorially. “They’re gone for ages, and when they do return, they wrap themselves up so tightly and barely interact with anyone. The housekeeper at Cheng Yanchi’s place told me he once ran into one of them on a rainy night—the guy was clutching something in his arms and moving really fast.”

Jiang Yao’s mopping slowed, as though pondering Ye Yiyi’s words.

“The key thing is, he had blood on him!” Ye Yiyi frowned. “Yao, do you think he could be some psychopath serial killer or something?”

Jiang Yao looked up and rapped Ye Yiyi on the head. “You’ve got quite the imagination!”

For several days in a row, Ye Yiyi was out early and home late, busy with her affairs.

Jiang Yao managed to work for a few days before her body finally succumbed to a severe cold, forcing her to take leave and rest at home.

It was raining again. Jiang Yao stood on the balcony gathering laundry; she had always disliked rainy days.

Remembering Ye Yiyi’s words, she glanced toward the neighboring house. Not a sound had come from there these past days—it seemed no one had returned.

Shaking her head and laughing at her own paranoia, Jiang Yao was about to go inside when she heard a faint cry.

Following the sound, she saw at the gate next door a tiny orange kitten, no bigger than her palm, huddled in the gaps of the iron fence, shivering in the autumn rain.

Jiang Yao quickly set down her laundry and ran downstairs.

“Little kitty, why are you here all alone?” She cradled the kitten in her hands. “Where’s your mother?”

The kitten nestled obediently in her palm, letting out a soft “meow.”

Jiang Yao stroked its soft fur gently. “Are you hungry? How about I take you home, sweetie?”

She glanced at the gate again. “This isn’t the place for you to stay—what if you run into someone bad?”

Ye Yiyi’s warnings couldn’t be taken too seriously, nor ignored entirely; while the chances of a serial killer were slim, there were plenty in this world who took pleasure in mistreating cats and dogs.

“Someone bad?”

A deep, magnetic male voice suddenly sounded behind her.

Jiang Yao, crouching, felt her spine stiffen, as if a shadow had fallen over her head.

She slowly turned, then gradually looked up—shiny leather shoes, long legs, a tall figure, and finally a face wrapped tightly in a mask…

“Ah!” She couldn’t help but cry out.

“Meow!” The kitten in her palm echoed her shout.

The man frowned, then swiftly tore off his mask, revealing a refined, cold face.

Jiang Yao stared at that face and swallowed hard.

Was fate playing tricks on her? How could he appear everywhere she went?

“This is…your house?” Jiang Yao gestured toward the villa before her.

He Yanqing wore an expression that said, “What else would it be?” as he looked down at her, repeating, “Who’s the bad person?”

“I—I’m the bad person!”

Given the circumstances, who would believe it was all a coincidence and not intentional?

Jiang Yao pushed herself upright with one hand, and before the man could speak, she blurted out, “I like you, okay? I followed you, I’m the crazy one, I—”

Whether from illness or from standing up too quickly, Jiang Yao hadn’t finished speaking when darkness seemed to descend before her eyes…

He Yanqing reacted swiftly, catching her in his arms. He frowned as he looked at her pale, bloodless face. “Hey.”

Jiang Yao felt as if she were burning up, her head throbbing painfully.

A terrifying face appeared before her eyes; he leaned close to her ear, whispering, “You’ll always be mine—you can’t escape.”

They say that pain doesn’t exist in dreams, but even knowing it was a dream, her body hurt terribly.

Then her mother’s face appeared, old and young features overlapping, weeping as she said, “Endure it, just hold on a little longer.”

Suddenly, the scene shifted to a bloody car accident. She stared at the shocking crimson, opened her mouth to scream, but found she couldn’t utter a sound…

A cool, large hand pressed gently to her forehead.

Jiang Yao’s turmoil eased, and she suddenly opened her eyes.

He Yanqing saw her wide eyes and withdrew his hand from her forehead, his thin lips pressed together awkwardly.

He cleared his throat and turned to her. “Sick as you are, what are you doing running around outside?”

Jiang Yao instinctively touched her forehead—it was burning hot, nearly enough to cook an egg.

She struggled to sit up and realized she was lying on a large bed. Looking around, she saw the modern minimalist decor, every detail reflecting the owner’s exquisite taste.

“Thank you, I should go home now.”

He Yanqing shot her a sidelong glance. “And then have something happen on the way, and say you ended up like this at my house?”

“You…” Jiang Yao, feverish, felt her mind was short-circuiting.

“Lie down,” He Yanqing ordered, impatient. “Just lie down.”

Jiang Yao, her body limp and powerless, had no choice but to lie back again. “I’ll rest for a bit and then leave.”

“You went through all the trouble to stalk me here; why the rush to leave?” He Yanqing teased lightly.

Jiang Yao’s flushed face burned with fever. She pulled the quilt over her head, turning her back to him.

He Yanqing chuckled softly and left the room.

When Jiang Yao finally emerged from under the covers, she heard the clatter of pots and dishes from the kitchen.

A while later, He Yanqing entered with a bowl of vegetable porridge.

He placed the bowl at the bedside and signaled her to eat.

Jiang Yao looked at the porridge, then at He Yanqing, unmoving.

“Don’t worry. You may like me, but I have no interest in you,” He Yanqing said, stirring the porridge gently with the spoon.

Again, again.

Jiang Yao rolled her eyes, took the bowl, and sipped a small mouthful.

Oh, it tasted… truly terrible.