Chapter 9

Back in her room, Wen Xin was so furious she stomped her foot. The father and son fight, and I have to suffer for it? Unbelievable!

She was starting to suspect that the Wen family had sent her here just for this—to be tormented. Yan Zeyang hadn’t refused when they sent her over, which probably meant he had been planning to use her as a punching bag all along.

Just like in the novel, He Wenyan had once thought: If he doesn’t go looking for trouble with them, they should count themselves lucky. But instead, they delivered themselves to his doorstep.

In the book, the supporting female character barely had any presence, let alone interactions with the male lead. The only mention of her was how Yan Zeyang didn’t even spare her a glance.

Could this be some hidden plotline that wasn’t written in the novel?

Frustrated, Wen Xin angrily took off her outerwear, hung it on the rack, and flopped onto the bed. She forced herself to calm down for a while before muttering, Forget it. I’ll endure it—for now. Consider it repayment for saving my life.

In the middle of the night, she nearly suffocated from the heat.

The storage room she was staying in was poorly ventilated. There was no air conditioning, and the only window was tucked into a corner, blocked by a wall. No breeze could get through. The room felt like a sealed box, trapping the heat inside.

Wen Xin tossed and turned, unable to sleep in the unfamiliar room. The heat was unbearable. Frustrated, she rolled up her nightshirt and tossed it aside, leaving herself in a pair of loose, white silk shorts that barely touched her skin. On top, she wore an oversized tank top that reached down to her thighs. She stretched out her long, pale legs against the window sill, and only in the latter half of the night did she finally manage to drift off.

She had barely closed her eyes when a loud knocking jolted her awake.

Fuming, Wen Xin sprang up, stomped to the door, and yanked it open with a sharp “whoosh,” glaring at the person outside.

Enough already!

Standing in the doorway, backlit by the dim light from the living room, was Yan Zeyang. His hand was still raised mid-knock when the door abruptly opened, and before he even saw her face, a faint yet intoxicating fragrance drifted toward him.

Wen Xin stood there with damp, tousled black hair clinging to her forehead, her face full of irritation. She wore nothing but an oversized tank top that barely reached her upper thighs. The fabric draped loosely over her body, revealing the deep curve of her chest, while her bare legs extended beneath it, smooth and glowing under the dim light.

It was rare—perhaps unprecedented—but under her seething gaze, Yan Zeyang actually took a step back. He let out a quiet cough to cover his reaction, turning his head slightly as if to avoid looking directly at her. Gone was his usual domineering presence; instead, there was an air of unease.

Still, he managed to say, albeit somewhat awkwardly, “It’s four o’clock. At four-thirty, I need—”

Before he could finish, Wen Xin cut him off with a sharp, irritated “Got it!” and slammed the door shut.

Yan Zeyang stood frozen outside the door for a moment before finally walking away.

Inside, Wen Xin replayed what had just happened, something about his reaction seeming… off. He had even stepped back. Was she really that intimidating?

Then, she looked down at herself.

Her tank top was oversized and loose, the neckline dipping low, revealing just a deep valley of cleavage. And though she was indeed wearing shorts, they were completely hidden under the long hem of the tank top. To someone who didn’t know better, it might’ve looked like she wasn’t wearing anything at all…

Ever since she got her system in her senior year of high school, Wen Xin had been meticulously taking care of herself. She drank only the best natural supplements and regularly extracted pure essential oils from fresh edible roses—enough to last her an entire year. Just two drops in water filled the air with a fragrance so lush, it felt like stepping into a rose garden.

The remaining floral-infused liquid was equally precious, stored away for daily consumption. This routine of internal and external nourishment left her skin smooth and radiant, supple like fine porcelain. Even she couldn’t help but admire how soft and hydrated it felt.

In art school, where beauty was abundant, Wen Xin had remained the undisputed campus queen for two consecutive years—not just because of her delicate features but because no one else’s complexion could compare. Even the prettiest girls looked dull next to her.

Pulling down the hem of her tank top, she sighed.

She had once been intimidated by Yan Zeyang’s reputation—the so-called “Devil” of the military. He carried himself with such arrogance, barely sparing others a glance. He was a nightmare to cross, or so she had been told.

But now, thinking back on his reaction just now…

This wasn’t modern times, after all. There weren’t even celebrity posters yet, let alone photo books. Women rarely exposed more than their arms or lower legs in public—anything above the knees was considered scandalous.

A guy like him, raised in the military, constantly surrounded by men… How much could he have possibly seen?

Honestly, he was probably still a virgin.

The way he had taken a step back when he saw her? Yeah, he was definitely shaken.

The thought made Wen Xin burst into laughter.

Truth be told, she hadn’t felt too afraid coming to the Yan household. Even if they resented her, she wasn’t defenseless. At the end of the day, they were still “upright men.”

The Wen family had gotten off lightly—after more than a year, all Yan Zeyang had done was revoke their son’s enrollment slot. He hadn’t actually done anything else to retaliate.

A family like the Yan’s, with a deep military background, still adhered to discipline and principles. No matter how much they despised someone, there was a line they wouldn’t cross. The most they would do was ruin careers and cut off opportunities. If this were any other powerful family, Wen Xin wouldn’t have dared set foot in their home.

Military men, at least, weren’t the type to resort to dirty tricks.

And judging by how Yan Zeyang had reacted just now—taking a step back just from looking at her—it was clear he hadn’t considered any “other” ways to deal with her. At most, he just wanted to use her status as a housemaid to boss her around.

So why should she be afraid?

They couldn’t do anything to her!

With that realization, any lingering fear evaporated.

Since she couldn’t sleep anymore, Wen Xin got up, tidied her bedding, and changed into a plain white T-shirt and blue pants. These were clothes Luo Juan had bought for her before she arrived, afraid that her own attire would be too shabby to make a good impression on the officer’s son.

To Wen Xin, though, it was just a slightly neater version of what she usually wore—nothing special.

Glancing at the time, she saw it was already 4:15. She made her way to the kitchen and quickly prepared a bowl of noodles, slicing them fresh and cooking them in a simple clear broth with a poached egg.

No more, no less—just one bowl.

At precisely 4:30, Yan Zeyang returned from his morning run, drenched in sweat. He washed his face and walked over, only to see a single bowl of noodles sitting on the table.

His face immediately darkened.

“That’s it?”

Wen Xin shrugged innocently. “You didn’t give me much time, so this is all I could make.”

Yan Zeyang was a temperamental and prideful man—picky, irritable, and easily provoked. His brows shot up in frustration. But instead of exploding like she expected, he simply stared at her for a long moment before sitting down.

Then, with an expression of obvious disdain, he picked up his chopsticks and lifted a bite of noodles. He gave her a sidelong glance as if to say, “This had better be edible.”

Wen Xin’s cooking skills were excellent—especially when it came to noodles. Her first lessons in the kitchen had all started with handmade noodles, and while the broth looked plain, it was incredibly rich in flavor.

With her system’s enhancements, it was practically gourmet. Back in college, her best friend Song Qian had adored her cooking. Whenever Wen Xin made a small pot of noodles, the entire dorm would come running, and before she knew it, everything would be gone—she barely got to eat any herself.

As expected, Yan Zeyang took a bite, his face momentarily stiffening. Then, without a word, he continued eating.

Before long, the bowl was empty.

He stared at the bottom of the bowl, frowning slightly.

For the first time, he realized just how small this bowl was.

Fresh from his run, he was starving, and one bowl of noodles barely made a dent.

“Is there more?”

At this moment, Wen Xin put on a perfectly polite service smile. “You gave me too little time. I only had enough to make one bowl.”

Yan Zeyang’s face darkened even more.

He threw down the empty bowl and went upstairs.

Since he had to reach the military camp before five, he moved swiftly. In less than five minutes, he came downstairs dressed in a neatly pressed olive-green military uniform, holding his belt in one hand. As he passed by the kitchen, he angrily fastened the belt around his waist and shot Wen Xin a glare before storming out.

Wen Xin remained in the kitchen, pretending not to notice. She had done it on purpose. Despite the clear broth, she had added many flavorful ingredients, making it exceptionally delicious. Yet, she had only prepared one bowl. Since he was in a rush to return to camp, he had no choice but to leave half-full, half-hungry.

Hmph, that’ll teach him for knocking on her door before four in the morning. Besides, Wenyan had mentioned that the military camp had a cafeteria! He usually ate there anyway.

Feeling satisfied with her small act of revenge, Wen Xin silently gave herself a thumbs-up.