Chapter 8: I Really Didn’t Mean It

**Chapter 8: I Really Didn’t Mean To**

Butler Zhang noticed the ever-changing expressions on Jian Ye’s face and said considerately, “Master Jian doesn’t need to force himself. If you truly don’t wish to return, I can inform the family patriarch.”

The ancestral home had only sent Butler Zhang to keep an eye on Jian Ye and report his activities at the villa periodically.

Butler Zhang had no power to override his master’s actions or wishes. Even if Jian Ye chose not to return, Butler Zhang couldn’t do anything about it, nor would the ancestral home blame him.

However… the young master’s reputation within the Jian family would certainly suffer further damage.

Jian Ye shook himself from his reverie, clenching and unclenching his fists. “I already said I’d return tomorrow. Uncle Zhang just needs to relay the message.”

So what if he’d suffered a public humiliation?

Besides, it wasn’t even him who did it—the embarrassment belonged to the original soul.

Tomorrow would come as it may. Once Jian Ye sorted things out in his mind, he felt much less conflicted.

He comforted himself—this was just how expendable characters were. If everything went too smoothly, it would be suspicious instead.

The path of a minor character was bound to have some troubles; he just had to deal with them one by one.

“Uncle Zhang, I need you to buy some things for me…” Jian Ye handed Butler Zhang a card—the exact same one he had taken from Yu Wei earlier.

Borrowing from Peter to pay Paul was something he was quite skilled at.

Butler Zhang followed his young master’s orders, nodding repeatedly. Though he didn’t know what Jian Ye was planning, he suspected the young master would cause some trouble upon returning to the ancestral home tomorrow.

Just as Butler Zhang was about to leave, Jian Ye called him back and pulled out another card from his pocket—this one belonging to the original soul.

He thought about it—the stolen card alone might not be enough. For his first visit to the ancestral home, he needed to pull out all the stops.

……

The Jian family’s ancestral home loomed atop Lulong Mountain.

Amidst the vast expanse of pear trees, the courtyard stood—ancient yet serene, radiating comfort.

The next day, Jian Ye sat in the car heading up the mountain, coolly surveying the scenery outside the window.

Wasn’t this just a typical novel setup? Wealthy aristocratic families always loved nesting in the mountains.

Truth be told, the air on Lulong Mountain was indeed excellent. Living here might actually extend one’s lifespan.

No wonder that set-in-his-ways old man refused to leave the ancestral home for the luxury apartments in the city center.

When he got old, he’d find some remote mountain woods to hide in too.

After fifteen minutes of uphill driving, the car finally arrived at its destination.

The servants at the gate showed mixed reactions upon seeing Jian Ye, but they still lowered their heads respectfully and opened the door.

Jian Ye ignored their subtle expressions, guessing they were still shaken by the original soul’s outrageous behavior last time.

He strode inside as if nothing had happened, acting casual, as though he’d completely forgotten the previous incident.

He hadn’t gone three paces when a haughty yell rang out: “Hey! Runt up ahead! Come here and carry my luggage and bags!”

Jian Ye acted as if he hadn’t heard and kept walking, refusing to acknowledge that he was the so-called “runt.”

"Damn! Are you deaf? Do new servants these days have no manners?" The voice behind grew closer until the speaker abruptly blocked Jian Ye’s path.

When the young man stepped forward to berate him further, he froze upon seeing the face that lifted to meet his gaze.

"Jian... Ye?" The youth rudely ruffled the boy's hair, then burst into laughter. "Haven’t seen you in days—your ‘grass’ hair’s gone full black forest now. It won’t fade, will it?"

Jian Ye took a step back, feigning surprise once he recognized the person. "Cousin? When did you arrive?"

Indeed, the young man before him was Jian Song, the eldest grandson of the Jian family’s main branch. His hair was greased into a slick back, his face half-buried in oversized shades, and multiple long chains hung around his neck. Despite the cold weather, his pants had more holes than fabric.

"So tacky it’s almost cool"—Jian Ye couldn’t agree with such taste, but this cousin was utterly self-assured, obsessed with showing off and demanding every bit of attention.

"I’ve been calling you, and you’re still playing dumb!" Jian Song snapped.

"When did you call me, cousin?" Jian Ye widened his innocent eyes, staring up with genuine confusion.

"I told you to carry my luggage! Were you deaf the whole time?" Though Jian Song had initially mistaken Jian Ye for a servant, his expression showed no remorse—instead, he grew even more indignant.

It was clear just how little respect the original host had received in the Jian family’s old estate.

Despite being Old Mr. Jian’s own grandson, he was treated like a lowly servant by others.

Someone like Jian Song, who carried his nose high and eyes on the top of his head, would never see anything wrong with his own words or actions.

If there was a problem, it was always someone else’s fault.

Jian Ye paused, then quickly adopted a wounded expression. "I’m so sorry, cousin... I truly didn’t realize you meant me."

"You didn’t say my name—just ‘hey’ and ‘little shorty.’ I thought you were calling Auntie Jian Fu’s ‘Tubby.’"

"Tubby" was the corgi owned by Old Mr. Jian’s youngest daughter, Jian Fu. With a bottomless stomach and legs so short he looked plump as a dumpling, the dog had earned his nickname well.

Family members sometimes jokingly called him “little shorty,” too.

Jian Ye had already decided: no matter how much Jian Song ranted, he’d play dumb to the end.

"You—" Jian Song faltered, momentarily at a loss for words. He couldn’t waste more breath on this moron.

But his bruised ego demanded payback, so he smirked and taunted, "Who was it that swore they’d never set foot in the Jian family estate again, or they’d be a dog?"

Jian Ye’s eyes widened. His lips pressed tightly together, his brows drooping along with the corners of his eyes.

He sniffled, nose turning red as he gazed sorrowfully at the young man. "Yes, I said that in a moment of thoughtlessness. So... just now, cousin, you were calling me like a dog? I always thought... in this family, you were different from the others. That you wouldn’t demean me over a single wrong word. To compare me to Tubby... that cuts deepest."

Jian Song: ???

Masterclass in misinterpretation???

"Ding—Green Tea Points alert! Green Tea Points +15."

By now, the Jian family’s servants and staff had long been watching the scene unfold. After Jian Ye’s last explosive visit, everyone’s eyes were inevitably drawn to the youngest heir.

The conflict and conversation between the Eldest Young Master and the youngest heir had naturally reached their ears.

Even those who had previously looked down on Jian Ye now couldn’t help but feel that the Eldest Young Master had gone too far by insulting him as a dog.

"System 748: Host, you set all that up earlier just to trap him?"

"Jian Ye: Of course! Even if this idiot hadn’t brought up the original host’s rash words, someone else would’ve mocked me later. Might as well shut it down here."

"System 748: Got it down pat, uwu~"

"Jian Ye: ..."

He'd deliberately steered the conversation toward "dog," setting a trap for Jian Song to say it out loud.

Paired with Jian Song's naturally smug expression, the act was seamless, making the humiliation crystal clear—painting Jian Song as the bully and tormentor.

The servants watching from a distance could only see Jian Song dumping on Jian Ye.

While Jian Ye, that fragile little white flower swaying in the wind, had no choice but to lower his head and endure the verbal abuse.

"Ah, the young master is really pitiful."

"Yeah, with his parents gone, he has no one to rely on in the old house."

"That incident last time when he cut his wrists in the hall... must’ve been because he couldn’t take the pressure anymore."

"Enough, don’t gossip. We shouldn’t meddle in the masters’ affairs. Let’s just quietly be kinder to the young master in private."

Jian Ye had no idea how dramatic the servants' mental commentary was in those few minutes.

Jian Song, of course, didn’t hear the murmurs either—he was too used to being arrogant.

Even though he hadn’t meant to insult Jian Ye as a "dog," now that he was provoked, he dug in his heels, too pissed to think straight.

"What’s it to you if I scold you? You’re the one who shot your mouth off and angered Grandfather! Regretting it now? Hah!"

Jian Ye lowered his head even further, looking increasingly pitiful.

"I just got back from vacation, and I have too much stuff. Haul my luggage for me! Hurry up!"

Jian Song could’ve asked a servant to help, but since Jian Ye was right there, why not use him as free labor? His spineless pushover cousin wouldn’t dare resist anyway—what could he do even if bullied?

Jian Song had already prepared more humiliating taunts in case Jian Ye refused.

To his surprise, Jian Ye wordlessly hoisted the suitcase.

Pleased, Jian Song couldn’t help but think how utterly pathetic his cousin was—no pride, no guts.

"System 748: Host, your Green Tea Points are rising exponentially. This kind of natural tea-mastery is a first for me. Let me take notes."

"Jian Ye: I live for this pretentious cousin of mine. He’s the perfect living contrast to highlight my virtues."

"System 748: Oh?"

"Jian Ye: Based on past Green Tea gains, performing in crowded areas doubles the chances. The Jian family has plenty of servants—easier to rack up points from them."

"System 748: Host’s analytical approach is truly commendable. Next time I report to HQ, I hope they’ll give me Outstanding System honors."

"Jian Ye: My excellence has zero correlation with yours. Don’t mooch off my clout for rewards."

"System 748: HQ awards mean more freebies in the system store."

"Jian Ye: What? Why didn’t you say so earlier? Then I’ll have to turn up the heat. Starting now, I won’t hold back my talents. Watch my next-level scheming unfold."

The boy struggled to drag the suitcase along the cobblestone path.

Meanwhile, the so-called 'fashion icon' ahead kept barking orders: "Easy there! There’s gear worth tens of thousands in there! And don’t ruin the wheels!"

"You're so clumsy! Can't you even lift it properly? Did you skip breakfast or something?"

Jian Ye automatically blocked out the nagging voices, his gaze lowering to hide the icy coldness in his eyes that no one else could see.

When they reached the middle of the cobblestone path, Jian Ye pretended to stumble sideways. The suitcase he was dragging wobbled unsteadily, and using the momentum of his fall, he flung it straight into the center of the nearby decorative pond.

"Holy shit! I told you to be careful! How the fuck did you mess that up? You did this on purpose, didn’t you?"

The pond wasn’t large, but it was about a meter deep. Just before throwing it, Jian Ye had deliberately loosened the suitcase zipper slightly.

Now, the suitcase floated open in the water, its contents—Jian Song’s camera and laptop, supposedly worth tens of thousands—sinking swiftly to the bottom.

Seeing red, Jian Song grabbed the now-fallen Jian Ye by the collar.

"All my stuff is ruined! You’re paying for this, motherfucker!"

Jian Ye clutched his ankle, his eyes welling up. "Cuz, I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean to. I accidentally stepped on a sharp rock, twisted my foot, and lost my balance—that’s why your suitcase fell into the water."

*Yeah, right!* Jian Song thought. *As if!* How does a twisted ankle send a suitcase flying into the middle of a pond?

One second he's too weak to carry the bag, and the next he's chucking it like an Olympic shot-put?

This was clearly no accident.