Chapter 27 The Cold and Beautiful Professor (27)

Chapter 27: The Coldly Alluring Professor (27)

Qi Yan’s fingers were long, nearly his entire finger plunging into Shen Juan’s mouth, resting comfortably on his tender tongue, and probing his throat.

Shen Juan’s thin lips were chafed completely red.

At the moment Shen Juan could bear it no longer, Qi Yan slowly withdrew, grinding against his flushed, delicate tongue, making Shen Juan’s breathing rapid and erratic.

In that moment, it sounded like a seductive rhythm spurring Qi Yan on.

Qi Yan had no intention of letting Shen Juan off easily; he pushed his index finger into Shen Juan’s mouth once again.

Shen Juan’s Adam’s apple bobbed, the suction causing Qi Yan’s finger to slide in another inch, effortlessly gathering more traces of moisture.

Qi Yan’s pupils intently reflected Shen Juan’s figure, watching as his own fingers were swallowed, his breath growing urgent in an instant.

Their breaths intertwined, Shen Juan’s growing heavy, no longer light and shallow as before. Behind his glasses, the shimmer in his eyes deepened, intensifying the furrow of Qi Yan’s brow.

He slowed his breathing, but his Adam’s apple slid uncontrollably, carrying his perverse desires, consuming Shen Juan’s appeal.

Qi Yan’s fingers were repeatedly soaked in the wet softness of the man’s lips and tongue. He stared fixedly as his index finger moved in and out of Shen Juan’s mouth.

The fluid drawn out by his fingertips was bold and sensual. Qi Yan felt a smug satisfaction, as if he had already possessed Shen Juan.

But it wasn’t enough, far from enough.

He cruelly pinched Shen Juan’s tongue tip. Shen Juan, from the pain and secret pleasure, flushed red, a helpless trickle of moisture dripping from the corner of his mouth.

Low, suppressed gasps escaped between his teeth. His face was no longer pale; as he lifted his head to look up at Qi Yan, his gaze was chaotic, still sucking on the man’s slender index finger.

Shen Juan was still wearing his glasses. By demeanor, he should have been bent over a desk, teaching and educating students, yet in reality, he was intimate with another man in a hotel after marriage.

Under their colliding gazes, Qi Yan’s blood surged with a wildness born of excitement and a desire for control.

Qi Yan deliberately provoked, "Does your husband know you make such a lewd expression for me?"

His tone was pitying. "Maybe your husband is working hard for your future, hence the frequent business trips."

He knew full well this wasn’t the truth—Shen Juan had no husband in the legal sense—but he said it intentionally.

Qi Yan’s expression grew increasingly sympathetic. "But your husband doesn’t know that his business trips have given another man an opportunity, like... me, who’s currently in your mouth."

Staring at his finger, mostly swallowed by Shen Juan, Qi Yan’s voice dropped low, the tail end of his tone drawling and seductive as he repeatedly emphasized the pitiable state of Shen Juan’s husband.

As he spoke, Qi Yan sighed, his eyelids lifting to reveal a sharp, ambitious glint. "But you can reassure him, teacher—I’ll take good care of you in his place."

The pity quickly faded as ambition surfaced. Qi Yan ruthlessly thrust deeper, burying his finger completely in Shen Juan’s mouth.

He locked eyes with Shen Juan’s glistening red lips, straining around his finger. Qi Yan leaned down to kiss his ear. "You’re so endearing, teacher, trying so hard to take my finger."

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. "I really want your husband to see you like this with his own eyes."

Qi Yan wanted to witness the crumbling expression on Shen Juan’s husband’s face—it would surely bring him immense satisfaction.

With Qi Yan’s finger still in his mouth, Shen Juan couldn’t form coherent words even if he wanted to speak, forced to listen to Qi Yan’s feigned pity in a husky tone.

He clenched his teeth, biting down hard on Qi Yan’s finger, angered by his rough probing of his throat. Shen Juan pushed at him, signaling Qi Yan to stop immediately.

The familiar sting returned to his finger, but Qi Yan remained expressionless, as if completely ignoring Shen Juan’s signal. Instead, in good spirits, he pushed his finger all the way in.

Using his eyes to savor the softness inside the beautiful teacher’s mouth.

Qi Yan’s finger was fully enveloped by Shen Juan’s lips and tongue, his entire slender digit, from fingertip to knuckle, becoming thoroughly wet.

This sensation somewhat enthralled Qi Yan, but he still felt it wasn’t enough—something was missing. He needed more to fill the persistent emptiness in his heart.

And that something could only be given by Shen Juan.

Qi Yan felt the warmth transmitted through his finger, his fingertip lightly brushing the soft flesh inside Shen Juan, admiring the expressions he drew from him.

He had already driven the redness at the corners of Shen Juan’s eyes to deepen, his teeth unconsciously drawing out more sounds under the provocation.

Shen Juan glanced at Qi Yan from the corner of his eye, tilting his head back, trying to spit out Qi Yan’s finger.

Qi Yan wouldn’t let him succeed; the more Shen Juan struggled, the more excited he became.

He delighted in any emotion Shen Juan showed because of him, even hatred, even resentment for his roughness and insensitivity.

This was far better than being treated as an insignificant bystander by Shen Juan.

Qi Yan used his other hand to start a recording on his phone, smiling at Shen Juan. "It sounds so good. Should I record it for your husband?"

Shen Juan, deprived of oxygen by his finger, could only part his lips wider to gasp for more air, but this only made it easier for Qi Yan’s actions, fueling his audacity to defile him.

To Qi Yan at this moment, his moans were utterly pleasing.

And then... Qi Yan actually began recording.

Qi Yan’s eyes curved into smiles, his mood evidently good. "Teacher, you can’t finish your husband in two bites, but how come you can’t even take my finger in one?"

His voice was husky and thick, his gaze fixed intently on Shen Juan, pressing for an answer. "Teacher, why aren’t you speaking?"

He leaned down, his eyes meeting Shen Juan’s, placing the phone in the closest position, his finger thrusting into Shen Juan’s mouth again. "Baby, does my finger taste good?"

Qi Yan laughed, kissing his ear. "Baby, do you want to taste something bigger?"

Shen Juan’s tongue ached with an indescribable soreness, the moisture in his eyes increasing, the moans from his lips becoming hoarser and more genuine than before.

Hearing this, Qi Yan grew even more excited, spine-tingling currents shooting down his spine. He kissed Shen Juan’s ear. "I’m not worse than them, am I?"

Unfortunately, Shen Juan couldn’t speak, unable to respond.

Qi Yan still refused to let him off. He lifted his longest middle finger, lightly tapping the corner of Shen Juan’s mouth. "Teacher, don’t you really want to try if you can take my middle finger in three bites?"

His gaze was burning.

Shen Juan’s face was unnaturally flushed. He raised his arm, punching Qi Yan hard, while his teeth clamped down fiercely.

It was no longer a slight sting; blood seeped from Qi Yan’s finger, the metallic taste of iron dancing on Shen Juan’s taste buds.

He tasted the real taste of blood. Shen Juan didn’t even blink, calmly continuing to bite Qi Yan’s finger, biting down hard.

Even bitten so painfully, Qi Yan still didn’t withdraw his finger. Seeing the coldness in Shen Juan’s eyes, other feelings spread through his heart.

Qi Yan saw the cold anger in Shen Juan’s expression and knew his excessive behavior had displeased him.

Slowly withdrawing his finger, Qi Yan ignored the bleeding fingertip. He knelt down, meeting Shen Juan at eye level. "Teacher, are you angry with me?"

Qi Yan’s actions just now were indeed excessive—not only continuously violating Shen Juan’s mouth with his finger but also recording and saying those things.

It would be strange if Shen Juan wasn’t mad at him.

Qi Yan also knew he had gone too far. Moments later, he waved his bleeding index finger in front of Shen Juan’s line of sight.

Qi Yan’s attempt at putting on a pitiful act was unconvincing, full of flaws—clearly an act.

Shen Juan’s gaze was cold. He glanced briefly at the injured area before looking away, as if he didn’t care at all.

Secretly fuming, he thought, *It would serve him right if it hurt like hell.*

Aside from the alarming amount of blood on Qi Yan’s finger, most of it was mixed with his own saliva. Shen Juan’s throat still ached, all thanks to Qi Yan.

After a long pause, Shen Juan said calmly, "My husband would never let me suffer."

Shen Juan wiped the corner of his mouth with a tissue. Behind his glasses, his eyes were clear and sharp. He lifted his foot and stepped firmly on Qi Yan’s abs.

To accommodate Shen Juan’s movement, Qi Yan adjusted his posture, exposing his lower abdomen. He looked up at Shen Juan, avoiding any mention of the earlier unpleasantness: "Is the teacher planning to discipline me now?"

Shen Juan stepped on his firm, well-defined abs, and a hint of a smile finally appeared in his eyes—one that put Qi Yan at ease. He said, "I enjoy stepping on my husband’s body. He always indulges me and lets me step on him. I know he treats me well."

Hearing Shen Juan praise his husband so sincerely, Qi Yan’s eyes drooped, his expression turning somewhat listless.

Not wanting Shen Juan to bring up that "ex-husband" of his—who knew where he’d ended up—Qi Yan lowered his eyelashes, hiding the gloom in his eyes. He lifted the hem of his shirt, revealing his abs.

His abdominal muscles were well-defined, smooth, and irresistibly attractive.

Qi Yan looked up at Shen Juan and smiled: "If this can make the teacher happy, you can discipline me all you want tonight."

Shen Juan stood up from the chair, his perspective shifting as he looked down at Qi Yan: "You said you want to be my lover."

Qi Yan looked up at him. He wasn’t used to this angle—it made him feel like helpless prey, completely at the other’s mercy.

But since Shen Juan didn’t tell him to stand, Qi Yan remained seated.

Shen Juan seemed to smile faintly: "There’s no benefit in being my lover."

As he spoke, Shen Juan shifted his ankle downward and pressed lightly. Qi Yan smiled up at him: "Even if there’s no benefit, I’m willing to be the lover the teacher disciplines."

Shen Juan chuckled softly, savoring the word: "...Discipline?"

It might take Qi Yan a long time to realize that what Shen Juan wanted to discipline was never his body.

Shen Juan glanced down and noticed a small spot of blood on the floor. Losing interest, he moved his foot away: "Forget it. I’m tired. Let’s rest early tonight."

He turned his back to Qi Yan, found a bandage, and accurately tossed it to him.

Qi Yan caught the bandage, bandaged his finger, and stopped the bleeding. He watched Shen Juan’s figure, but his mood didn’t improve.

Shen Juan’s response had been vague—it didn’t sound like he’d agreed to let him be his lover.

His calm rationality was assaulted by anxiety. Qi Yan had never imagined he’d one day be eager to stay by someone’s side—and still fail to do so.

This made him overthink, and every thought was inevitably related to Shen Juan.

Shen Juan lay on his side on the bed, eyes slightly closed: "Turn off the light."

Qi Yan stood still for a few seconds before slowly complying.

The room plunged into darkness, a heavy night where you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. Qi Yan’s vision was equally blurred in the deep gloom.

He moved forward, and suddenly there was light—Shen Juan had turned on the small bedside lamp, its soft white glow filling his eyes.

Silently, he walked forward and lay down beside Shen Juan. The next moment, the lamp went out again.

Qi Yan turned on his side, looking at Shen Juan’s back: "Teacher..."

Shen Juan’s tone was flat: "I’m very tired."

The lights in the room had gone out, but a fierce flame still burned relentlessly in Qi Yan’s heart.

Yet Shen Juan’s indifferent attitude left him unable to say anything out of line or act inappropriately. His voice was hoarse: "Good night."

In the silence, two hearts beat in sync, neither feeling particularly sleepy, yet neither willing to break the suffocating quiet.

Only when the other’s breathing gradually became steady and even did they reluctantly let go of their discontent and close their eyes.

The next day, the sky was bright.

Qi Yan opened his eyes. The bed beside him was cold—Shen Juan had left at some point, and he hadn’t even noticed.

This was very unusual.

Qi Yan touched the spot beside him; there was no trace of Shen Juan’s warmth left.

Was it to avoid him? Or had he left without a word because he was upset?

Irritated, Qi Yan unconsciously played with a pen, then took a cigarette case from his pocket. Just as he was about to pull out a cigarette, he paused.

He crumpled the entire case, box and all, and threw it into the trash.

Shen Juan didn’t like the smell of smoke.

Qi Yan took the bottled water Shen Juan had bought for him and left. Instead of returning to his rented room, he hailed a cab and headed toward Yanjing University.

Shen Juan usually wore a watch on his wrist, but from Qi Yan’s observations, he liked to change it every day.

Today, Shen Juan wasn’t wearing the watch with the tracker.

Qi Yan could only guess where Shen Juan might be.

During the ride, Qi Yan sat by the window, recalling the events of the previous night, and closed his eyes.

He had provoked too much and made Shen Juan unhappy.

Qi Yan placed his hand on his lower abdomen, as if he could still feel the imprint of Shen Juan’s step. He should have felt humiliated, but looking back, it only felt wonderful.

He would have been even happier if Shen Juan hadn’t talked about his ex-husband in front of him.

His eyes slightly downcast, he unconsciously rubbed the bandaged index finger. Even the lightest touch sent sharp pain radiating through it—proof of how deeply Shen Juan had bitten him.

If he lifted the bandage, the teeth marks on Qi Yan’s finger would surely be dark purple, incredibly clear.

Qi Yan gently stroked his finger, his expression softening for a moment.

Outside the main gate, the gilded signboard flamboyantly displayed the words "Yanjing University." The car came to a stop.

Qi Yan got out of the car, passed through the shadows cast by the Chinese parasol trees, and walked toward the office. Unfortunately, he still didn’t see Shen Juan this time.

He had to ask around to find out that Shen Juan had taken personal leave.

Qi Yan concealed the disappointment in his eyes, thanked the person who informed him, then turned and left the office.

With his hands in his pockets, he gazed at the blue sky, Shen Juan’s face constantly surfacing in his mind—even the clouds began to resemble him.

As he lost himself in thought, a smile crept into Qi Yan’s eyes.

He walked over the tree shadows when a voice called out from behind: "Lao Yan!"

Qi Yan paid no attention and continued walking. After a few more steps, the person behind him hurried over, catching up and playfully punching his shoulder. "Well, well, you’ve learned to ignore people now, huh?"

Only then did Qi Yan glance sideways—it was the school doctor he’d met last time at the infirmary, who seemed quite familiar with Shen Juan.

But they didn’t appear to be lovers. At that thought, Qi Yan’s expression softened slightly.

Still, being called "Lao Yan"—a name that felt entirely unrelated—didn’t exactly improve his mood. He replied listlessly, "What is it?"

Zhou Cheng gave him a puzzled look. "Have you inhaled too much disinfectant? Why do you act like you don’t know me?"

Qi Yan fell silent. Though he didn’t want to be mistaken for someone else, using the "Yan Qi" persona allowed him to gather information about Shen Juan.

So he didn’t bother explaining and simply let Zhou Cheng continue calling him "Lao Yan."

Zhou Cheng beamed brightly. "Want to guess what I found at my place?"

He looked expectantly at Qi Yan, as if urging, "Come on, ask me! Ask me what it is!"

Qi Yan patiently inquired, "What did you find?"

Zhou Cheng suddenly turned coy. "Well, you’re definitely going to like it."

Seeing Qi Yan’s expression, he decided not to keep him in suspense. "It’s a photo! Of you and Lao Shen."

"I think it was taken last year, or maybe the year before, on Lao Shen’s birthday."

Generally speaking, whenever either of them had a birthday, they’d stick together like glue and never invite friends.

But there were exceptions. Zhou Cheng managed to snap a photo of them because he happened to run into them on a vacation island while traveling.

He took a photo of the couple on the spot. He’d already sent the digital version to Lao Yan, but he’d forgotten about the physical copy. Just as he found it, he ran into Lao Yan.

Zhou Cheng was sure he’d be over the moon.

After all, when it came to anything related to Lao Shen, Lao Yan could never have enough.

Hearing this, Qi Yan murmured softly, "...Birthday?"

Zhou Cheng didn’t notice anything amiss and nodded. "Yeah, speaking of which, Lao Shen’s birthday is in five days. Have you two decided where to go for vacation?"

Qi Yan’s eyes darkened slightly. Even if Shen Juan were to go on vacation, it wouldn’t be with him.

He listened quietly, committing the date Zhou Cheng mentioned to memory.

After a moment of silence, Qi Yan asked in a tone that feigned indifference, "Can I see the photo?"

Zhou Cheng grumbled, "Since when did you become so polite?"

Even as he complained, he quickly handed Qi Yan a framed photo.

The frame looked brand new, clearly just purchased. Zhou Cheng grinned proudly. "I knew you wouldn’t want your better half’s photo getting dirty, so I put it in a frame. How thoughtful am I?"

Qi Yan’s gaze froze. So similar—how could they be this alike?

His guess had been right all along.

Shen Juan wasn’t just using him to distract himself from missing someone else—he was treating Qi Yan as a complete replacement for his ex-husband.

At no moment had Qi Yan felt more clear-headed than now: Shen Juan was conditioning him.

Shen Juan was absolutely conditioning him—his body, his mind, his soul, everything he could and couldn’t give.

Qi Yan’s heart screamed in agony and hatred.

But his eyes were glued to the man in the photo, unable to look away.

Unlike him, the man in the photo appeared more mature, with sharp, handsome features. Though both had striking looks and resembled each other, the man in the photo carried an air of maturity that Qi Yan lacked.

Qi Yan pressed his thumb against the frame, applying so much pressure that the edge of the bandage on his finger lifted slightly.

Zero Zero Zero glanced at the photo, then at him, worriedly watching Qi Yan’s troubled expression.

Although it didn’t know what its host was thinking, it was certain he had misunderstood—perhaps even thought he and the person in the photo were two different people.

At the moment the mission was completed, it had sent the host back to the real world, where time stood still. So when it brought the host back again, he still looked like the young man from the beginning.

But in the first timeline, the host’s body had aged in this world, and his appearance had changed, no longer exactly the same as before.

The host was probably imagining a drama completely divorced from reality.

Zero Zero Zero looked at Qi Yan with pity.

What to do? The host, who had lost his memory and returned thinking he was still nineteen, was no match for the twenty-eight-year-old antagonist.

Qi Yan had no mind to notice Zero Zero Zero’s expression. Suppressing the turmoil in his chest, he looked up calmly at Zhou Cheng. "Thanks, I’ll be going now."

Zhou Cheng stared blankly at his retreating figure, stroking his chin. Lao Yan was clearly not himself.

After a moment’s thought, he opened the group chat titled "The Couple and the Third Wheel."

[Zhou Cheng: Your better half seems to have inhaled too much disinfectant. He’s acting weird @Shen Juan]

[Jiang Cen: Great minds think alike!]

[Zhou Cheng: Piss off @Jiang Cen]

[Shen Juan: Ignore it.]

Zhou Cheng read Shen Juan’s reply, waited a few seconds, but didn’t see "Yan Qi" respond. He clicked on Lao Yan’s profile in the group.

He muttered to himself, "He hasn’t left the group. How come Lao Yan isn’t even replying to his own wife?"

Qi Yan was completely unaware of the little drama unfolding behind him.

He placed the photo face down on the car seat, watching the scenery flash by outside, his expression cold and dark.

No matter how he looked at it, the resemblance was too strong—so strong that Qi Yan couldn’t help but wonder if Shen Juan had transferred even a fraction of the love meant for his husband onto him.

So he could cunningly give and coldly withdraw.

His resemblance to Shen Juan's husband made Qi Yan seem like a crude imitation.

Even though Qi Yan had never actively imitated anyone.

He began to hate again.

Qi Yan’s back went rigid. He didn’t go to the shooting range, nor did he seek out Shen Juan again. He went straight back to his own residence.

Placing that blindingly bright photo on the coffee table, no matter how many times he looked at it, Qi Yan felt the resemblance. It was no wonder others repeatedly mistook him for Shen Juan’s "husband."

His eyes felt as if they had been scorched by the midday sun; for a moment, Qi Yan could barely open them.

Amid his turbulent emotions, the ever-present side effects surged toward Qi Yan like a tidal wave. His throat clogged with bitterness, accompanied by a thick, sickly-sweet metallic taste.

His lips parted, and he spat a mouthful of blood onto the photo, smearing half the man’s features in the photo, while Shen Juan beside him still smiled radiantly.

Qi Yan’s lips were drenched in blood, his face stained with spite and resentment, turning dark and unreadable. He forcibly swallowed the bloody foam from his tongue.

Carefully tasting the jealousy and pain spreading on his tongue.

The more he savored it, the more pain Qi Yan felt, and the more he derived a twisted pleasure from it.

He had already felt pain for Shen Juan, heartache. Amid burning jealousy, Qi Yan had transformed into a jealous husband.

It was Shen Juan who actively seduced him, tempted him, so why could he arrogantly abandon him without a care?

*Why.*

Qi Yan tore the photo apart, only keeping the side with Shen Juan intact.

Breathing heavily, a trace of blood at the corner of his mouth, Qi Yan clutched at his chest and lay on the nearest sofa, his face turning pale, sweat rolling down his forehead.

Zero Zero Zero watched him anxiously but didn’t know what to do, so anxious it was nearly in tears.

Of course, Qi Yan couldn’t sleep; his drowsiness had long vanished.

He lay there listlessly in his cold, hard residence, staring at the ceiling all night.

The next day, the side effects intensified again. Qi Yan wasn’t just thirsty; it felt as if fire was burning in the gaps between his bones.

Roasting him in love and hatred, tormenting him with excruciating pain.

Fortunately, Qi Yan could still walk out the door.

Before leaving, Qi Yan made an effort to dress well. No matter what, he had to look more handsome and presentable than Shen Juan’s former husband when meeting him.

But today also disappointed Qi Yan. He didn’t see Shen Juan. After asking around, he learned that Shen Juan had taken some students to another city for a math competition and wouldn’t return for two days.

Qi Yan could buy a ticket to find him now, but outsiders couldn’t enter the competition venue, and he had no way of knowing exactly where Shen Juan was.

He could only wait.

Qi Yan was also waiting for jealousy to completely consume him.

Two days later, Shen Juan returned. This was the second-to-last day of Qi Yan’s side effects.

Bearing the intense pain in his body, he got to Shen Juan’s vehicle before anyone else. He saw Shen Juan step out.

But Qi Yan did not approach him. He saw Shen Juan talking and laughing with others, and only then did he seem to cast a faint glance in this direction.

Qi Yan's heart ached with a dull burn. He walked toward Shen Juan, still managing to smile at him.

He saw Shen Juan walking toward him too, but someone beside him seemed to say something, making him hesitate before moving further away from Qi Yan's line of sight.

Another thick surge of blood rose in Qi Yan's throat.

He wanted to go find Shen Juan, to question him, to seize him, to violate him. Qi Yan's expression shifted as he wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth.

In the end, he returned alone to his rented apartment.

He wasn't in his right mind; getting close to Shen Juan would only result in both getting hurt.

By the final day of the side effects, Qi Yan had been tormented into delirium by the pain. He couldn't even manage to leave the house.

Qi Yan could only endure the excruciating pain of the side effects, collapsed weakly on the sofa with a pale face and cold sweat beading on his forehead.

Half his soul felt as if it were being simmered in scorching oil. It was no longer just thirst—his entire body was burning up.

Despite the torment, Qi Yan's mind still lingered on Shen Juan—on his passionate nature, his flirtatious ways, his smiles directed at him.

The more he thought about him, the more Qi Yan hated him; the more he hated him, the more this body, as if scalded by boiling oil, seemed to summon some strength out of thin air.

He wanted to rip into Shen Juan's flesh, to make him see his face clearly, to tell Shen Juan that he didn’t look like his husband at all—they were two completely different people.

An unbearable pain seeped into his bones, and hatred felt like swarms of diligent ants gnawing at his flesh.

The hours dragged on. Qi Yan no longer knew how long it had been; he only knew it wasn’t yet the early hours of the next day because the midnight alarm hadn't gone off.

He lay with his eyes fixed on the ceiling, staring, his vision blurring, his eyes aching, but the real pain was elsewhere.

Zero Zero Zero hadn’t lied to him; the side effects grew more agonizing as they progressed.

His eyes ached more and more, and a buzzing rang in his ears, like tinnitus.

He didn’t have the strength to think anymore.

Qi Yan lay helpless on the bed, his face flushed an unnatural red from the side effects, his eyes losing focus. No matter how his lips moved, he couldn’t form complete words.

Zero Zero Zero anxiously jumped to his ear and shouted.

[Host, hang in there! I’ll go find Lord Villain!]

Zero Zero Zero could no longer afford to fear the villain, even though he could kiss a corpse without batting an eye, had choked it, threatened it, and forced it into being a double agent.

But if this continued, the host would surely fall seriously ill.

Qi Yan used his last ounce of strength to grab its chicken wing, his voice hoarse: "...Don’t."

His condition was too poor. If Shen Juan were to serve as his cure now, it would only just get him hurt too.

Tears welled in Zero Zero Zero’s eyes and dripped onto its golden feathers. It sadly nudged Qi Yan’s arm with its head.

[Host, when you wake up, I’ll play 'Angry Birds' with you.]

Qi Yan’s consciousness blurred completely. His lips were chapped, and just before he passed out entirely, he saw a familiar figure.

Then...

He straddled his waist.

Faintly, Qi Yan also heard a familiar voice that seemed to sigh: "How did you manage to get yourself into such a state the moment I wasn't paying attention?"

Qi Yan's eyes ached, fixed painfully on the newcomer's gaze as if staring directly into the blazing sun, aching so much he couldn't close them.

At the last moment, he finally waited for the person he'd willingly sacrifice morality, emotion, and tender devotion for.

The figure pinched Qi Yan's chin, a thread of laughter slipping from his throat. "Look at you, what a mess you are."

Shen Juan admired Qi Yan's current helpless and disheveled state, his gaze drifting over his face.

His heartless husband had abandoned him for a full month. Given Shen Juan's nature, he would typically triple that, making Qi Yan go without seeing him for three months.

But Qi Yan had brought himself to this state...

Shen Juan let out a low, icy sigh. "Really... you beat me."

Qi Yan's waist was gently tightened by Shen Juan's two long legs, and he heard Shen Juan's muffled murmur: "It seems we need to hurry."

Counting the time, it had only been ten days, yet he had already created a major problem in his revenge plan months ahead of schedule.