“How bad is the injury?”

A voice cut through the void, startling An Leyan awake.

The air reeked of disinfectant. He lay in darkness, surrounded by the faint humming of unknown medical devices. A cool draft brushed against his cheek.

Not far away, there was the soft rustling of fabric and the clinking of metal. Someone clicked their tongue.

“Who the hell has a death wish daring to stab you? Good thing you dodged fast. I’m telling you, just take a damn vacation. If fans find out you’re injured, the internet will explode.”

The injured person remained silent. For some reason, An Leyan felt that he had just shot the speaker a glare.

A moment of awkwardness filled the air, thick enough to make even the air conditioning hum nervously, cooling the room further.

As the cold seeped into his skin, An Leyan finally regained feeling in his limbs.

Had he… been rescued?

The last thing he remembered was the torrential rain, droplets pounding against the gravestone before him, splashing tiny beads of water.

He had leaned weakly against the white marble, watching the shadowy figures closing in through the hazy night. He tilted his head, pressing his cheek to the stone.

The tombstone was ice-cold, chilling him to the bone. Blood dripped down his face, pooling onto the white jade tiles beneath him, only to be washed away by the relentless rain, sinking into the mud.

Yet, he had smiled.

“Can Ge, this is the best I could do. I couldn’t carry out your plan as well as you wanted, but I still avenged you. That’s good enough, right?”

With great effort, he had spread his arms, embracing the tombstone lightly before his vision went black.

A phone chimed with a soft “ding.”

Another male voice finally spoke. “Hiding isn’t my style. This commotion is huge. My dear uncle will be the first to suspect me. Since that’s the case, I might as well step into the spotlight. Playing cat and mouse with him is a waste of time. Let him drive himself crazy with paranoia.”

An Leyan snapped awake.

Impossible.

That voice—he had heard it thousands of times, echoing in his ears, lingering in his mind for years.

But Can Ge was supposed to be…

An Leyan struggled desperately to move.

His consciousness crashed back into his body, sluggishly responding after a long delay. What he thought was a violent struggle was, in reality, nothing more than a faint tremor of a comatose patient.

His neck felt like it was being crushed. His heart pounded faster and faster—

Beep—

The machine monitoring him emitted a sharp alarm.

The privacy curtain around his bed was yanked open with a swish.

A flurry of voices filled the room, but his consciousness plunged into darkness once more.

---

When he woke again, silence filled the room.

The warm summer breeze sneaked in through the window, rustling the curtains. Everything seemed to have fallen into a tranquil afternoon lull.

Then, he heard the faint click of the door.

The approaching footsteps halted at the entrance, as if hesitating.

Something felt off.

An Leyan lay motionless, appearing to be asleep. He didn’t open his eyes, only silently gathering his strength.

Near the doorway, footsteps shuffled, accompanied by a low murmur.

“Shit, you really have some damn luck, huh? Falling from that height and still alive?”

“Brother, don’t blame me. Money’s tight these days…”

The footsteps drew closer.

Every nerve in An Leyan’s body tensed. Blood rushed through his veins, restoring his control over his body, heightening all his senses.

The moment he heard the sharp whistle of an object slicing through the air, he rolled over, dodging an attack aimed at his ankle.

His vision blurred as he moved, but he caught a glimpse—

A man with dyed yellow hair, his arms covered in mismatched tattoos, wielding a broken chair leg. He looked like a low-level thug straight off the streets.

In the next instant, An Leyan hooked his arm around the man’s neck and yanked hard.

The thug had no time to react. His nose slammed into the metal railing of the hospital bed.

“Agh, shit—!” The man clutched his face, blood gushing between his fingers. The chair leg fell to the floor.

Ignoring his pathetic wailing, An Leyan grabbed the splintered end of the wooden stick and pressed it against the man’s throat.

“Please don’t! I messed up, I messed up!”

The thug cowered, head tilted back, tears and snot mixing with his blood-streaked face. He even let out a hiccup.

An Leyan stared down at the sniveling fool and crouched beside him.

“You got hired to kill me?”

“What?” The thug looked shocked. “Hell no! Murder gets you executed!”

An Leyan glanced at the wooden stick in his hand.

“It’s true!” The thug quickly explained. “Who would dare to kill someone? I was just supposed to break a leg or two, that’s all…”

That’s why he had aimed for the ankle instead of the head.

It… made sense.

An Leyan sneered. “The Fu family sent you?”

The thug blinked. “Fu who?”

The wooden stick pressed deeper. The thug panicked. “I swear, I don’t know any Fu family! I just took a job online, got paid, and followed orders. That’s all I know!”

His exaggerated expression sent flecks of blood and mucus flying.

Disgusted, An Leyan withdrew the stick.

His vision wavered—he had pushed his body too far. He leaned against the bed, grabbed a towel from the railing, and tossed it at the thug.

Then, he mocked, “Wow, taking jobs online now? Crime’s gone digital, huh?”

“T-Thanks.” The thug mumbled into the towel.

Wiping his face, he groaned in pain, then forced a grin. “Man, every industry is competitive these days. If we don’t keep up with the times, how are we supposed to make a living?”

His nose was already swelling. He squinted at An Leyan.

The boy was slender, his features delicate—almost too pretty. But his complexion was pale, nearly translucent under the afternoon sun.

Though he looked exhausted, on the verge of passing out again, he had taken down an attacker with ease—without even dislodging his IV drip.

The thug shivered, took two steps back, then bolted out the door.

Quick, too.

An Leyan exhaled, shoving the wooden stick under the bed. His gaze fell on the bloody towel on the floor.

It was covered in red stains and shiny bits of mucus.

After a long hesitation, he grabbed a plastic bag from the nightstand, pinched the towel by a corner, and stuffed it inside along with the broken chair leg.

His energy completely drained, he collapsed onto the bed.

Finally, everything was quiet. Even the cicadas outside seemed to hush.

The earlier fight felt like a distant dream, unreal.

It didn’t make sense.

If the Fu family had truly found him, they wouldn’t have sent such an incompetent fool. And what kind of hitman takes jobs online?

An Leyan closed his eyes, suppressing his dizziness, and reached for the nightstand drawer.

Inside was a phone—not his, but a newer model.

He picked it up. As the screen lit up, the facial recognition unlocked instantly.

…

His eyes landed on a WeChat message from two days ago.

[Bai’s Sweet Yan: Bai-ge, I finally got a spot! I can join you on Delicious Connections!]

An Leyan scrolled through the chat.

The other party, Bai-ge, barely responded—just a few words after walls of texts. But his social media was filled with lavish posts, including a recent one outside a mansion full of luxury cars.

The caption: At Fu-ge’s place, waiting obediently.

An Leyan’s heart skipped.

He switched to Weibo.

The account was filled with cosplay photos.

Then, he saw a selfie.

The face in the picture… was almost identical to his own.

And that was when it hit him—

He was inside a novel.

He was so certain because he had read this book before.

Not just read it—he had studied it to the point where he could almost recite it from memory.

It wasn’t because there was a minor character in the book who shared his exact name. Rather, despite being a melodramatic showbiz novel, it was also a revenge-driven real-person fanfiction—with none other than his own boss, Fu Shicang, as the protagonist.

In the novel, just like in reality, Fu Shicang was betrayed by his uncle and lost his parents. Yet, he endured in silence, biding his time and gathering strength, until he finally reclaimed the company that rightfully belonged to him and personally sent his malicious uncle to the guillotine.

During the five years he had been without Fu Shicang, he had used this novel as motivation to keep going—right until the very end.

If only this book had come out sooner. He would have made Cang Ge read it thoroughly, memorize it even.

So… had he transmigrated into the book?

Had he become a minor sidekick of a fictional character, one of those disposable cannon fodder who would exit the stage halfway through the story?

His barely stabilized emotions teetered on the edge of collapse again. Lying in bed, An Leyan silently processed this bizarre yet unchangeable reality.

Halfway through the story…

A sudden realization hit him, and his spirits lifted.

Of course! That cowardly blond guy from earlier might really have nothing to do with the Fu family—because Cang Ge’s revenge hadn’t even started yet.

Which meant… he might get the chance to witness Cang Ge’s entire revenge journey firsthand!

His character barely appeared in the novel. It only mentioned that after Bai Family’s young master turned dark, he, out of love for Bai Shaoye, had done many bad things for him, only to be casually crushed like an ant by the protagonist.

Ohhh, Cang Ge was so domineering! He really wanted to see it all up close!

“Hey, you’re awake!”

A young nurse pushed a cart into the room, then happily ran back out, soon returning with a young man in a white coat.

“I knew you’d wake up today,” the doctor said as he efficiently conducted some basic checks. “Alright, since you’re awake, there’s nothing serious. Nurse, notify the family. You—”

Still lost in his own thoughts, An Leyan only caught the words “nothing serious” and unconsciously smiled.

The afternoon sunlight was clear and bright. The young man, around eighteen or nineteen, had fair skin, slightly upturned peach-blossom eyes, and a hint of prideful spirit—full of life.

That smile, like a spring breeze, carried a pure and infectious joy that made people happy just by looking at him.

Tsk, how were boys these days getting prettier and prettier?

Moreover, all his health indicators had miraculously returned to normal. He looked completely fine!

Unconvinced, the doctor checked him again, but after confirming there were indeed no issues, he finally left at ease.

An Leyan watched the doctor and nurse leave, then opened his phone’s front camera, looking at his own reflection on the screen.

The smile faded. His eyes, clear and calm, held a composure beyond his age.

He tugged at the corner of his eye, adjusting it to match the shape in his Weibo photos.

Did the original owner… dislike these eyes?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps.

A woman in her forties rushed in, carrying a thermal food container and a bag of fresh clothes.

“Yanyan, you’re really awake!”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she saw him. “When the nurse called me, I could hardly believe it!”

She choked up, reaching out as if to touch his head but hesitated and pulled back timidly. “Does it still hurt? You scared me to death!”

Mom? Since when did I have a mom?

Oh, right. The original owner did have a mother—she worked as a cook for the Bai family.

Meeting the woman’s concerned gaze, An Leyan couldn’t bring himself to say the word “Mom,” so he looked away—only to catch sight of the thermal container.

“Are you hungry?” she asked immediately. “The nurse said you can eat soft foods now, so I brought chicken soup and porridge for you.”

An Mama bustled about, setting up a small table and taking out the food.

The rich aroma of chicken soup filled the air. An Leyan lowered his head and took a big sip.

An Mama’s face lit up. “Tastes good, right? You haven’t been home for a long time. This will help you regain your strength.”

Seeing her still busy, An Leyan tugged gently at her sleeve. “You don’t have to fuss over me. Take a break.”

An Mama froze for a moment, then looked even happier. She didn’t sit down, just leaned against the cabinet, her eyes never leaving his face.

Under her gaze, An Leyan started to blush. Just as he was about to speak, she murmured, “Such a good-looking child… Why do you always draw your eyes downward? Looking like this, maybe Bai Shaoye will like you more.”

An Leyan: …

So that was the reason.

The novel said this cannon fodder character was hopelessly in love with Bai Shaoye. It seemed like his devotion had really run deep.

At that moment, a phone rang.

An Leyan looked up to see An Mama hurriedly fumbling for her phone. She hesitated for two seconds before answering, her voice cautious. “Bai… Bai Shaoye?”

From the other end came faint background music, and a young man’s voice, tinged with impatience:

“He woke up, right? Let me talk to him.”

An Mama looked at her son worriedly, gripping the phone tightly, not daring to hand it over or say a word.

An Leyan finished the last sip of his soup before leisurely setting the bowl down and taking the phone from her.

Pressing it to his ear, he spoke in a clear yet soft voice:

“Thank you, Bai Ge. I’m fine now.”

“You… You’re really okay!” Bai Jingchen’s voice instantly sharpened. “Don’t force yourself. I already told the director about your injury. Call him and confirm your withdrawal. Just focus on resting.”

An Leyan smiled.

No way.

When he first read the book, he had been beyond curious about this dating reality show—a paradise of beautiful men, a battlefield of romantic tension. Imagining the love-hate entanglements of those handsome contestants had been his greatest source of entertainment.

Besides, this show didn’t just feature revenge—it even had Cang Ge’s rare romantic scenes!

As his former assistant and current devoted supporter, how could he not witness it all in person?

He turned to his mother, his eyes curving slightly in a warm yet firm smile.

“I’m not quitting, Bai Ge. I want to go on the show with you.”