After Transmigrating into a Sadistic Novel, the Socially Anxious Sickly Beauty Just Wants to Sleep - Chapter 17

“Mr. Yan, are you in there?” Miss Rong knocked on the door, but received no response.

After waiting for two seconds, she tentatively twisted the handle. As expected, it wasn’t locked. She pushed the door open with light, cautious steps.

Yan Zhimuo lay on the sofa, his clothes in disarray. His brows were furrowed in apparent agony, his thin lips slightly parted as he breathed in short, ragged gasps. One long-fingered hand tugged at his collar, revealing his sexy neck and collarbones.

Miss Rong’s face flushed red the moment she saw him.

Yan Zhimuo’s internal monologue: Damn it, I actually have to sell my looks for this. The Rong family has to go.

Miss Rong called out his name a few more times, but only received incoherent, muffled groans in response. Finally relaxing, she walked over slowly, her slender fingers unfastening the transparent gauze shawl draped over her shoulders to reveal her rounded, porcelain-white shoulders.

She casually tossed the gauze onto the arm of the sofa and leaned down to touch Yan Zhimuo’s arm, whispering softly, “President Yan, why are you sleeping on the sofa? Let me help you to the bed in the inner room.”

“Mianmian…” Yan Zhimuo’s brows tightened as he struggled to open his eyes. His thick, dark lashes were half-lowered; his usually sharp, deep black eyes were now clouded and dazed.

He stared at Miss Rong’s fair face for a long time. As if bewitched, he reached out and grabbed her slender, smooth wrist.

“President Yan, Mr. Jian isn’t here. It’s the same if I accompany you,” Miss Rong said, seeing his semi-conscious state. She even grew bold enough to touch his face, a bashful pink tinting her innocent-looking cheeks. “President Yan, actually… I’ve always deeply admired you…”

Yan Zhimuo was young, handsome, and carried an extraordinary aura. His family background and abilities were top-tier, making him the most likely successor to rule the Yan family. If she could conceive his child, the Rong family would rise to prosperity in an instant.

However, in the next second, Yan Zhimuo’s grip on her wrist suddenly tightened, as if he intended to crush her bones in one go.

Miss Rong let out a cry of pain. Before she knew it, the world spun. The man grabbed her by the hair and slammed her down onto the hard, cold coffee table with violent speed. Her head exploded in a dizzying throb; her vision went black for a second, making her fear her skull had been shattered.

The bowl on the coffee table was sent flying by the impact, shattering against the floor tiles with a loud crack. Sharp porcelain shards sprayed upward, instantly slicing Miss Rong’s upper eyelid. Bright red blood began to flow, mingling with her streaming tears.

Yan Zhimuo pressed her head down with one hand while the other casually picked up a shard from the floor. He pressed it directly against her throat, instantly piercing her thin skin. Blood stained his hand as he said nonchalantly, “So this is how you ‘admire’ me? Colluding with Secretary Liu to drug me? Hmm?”

“No… no…” Warm blood flowed into Miss Rong’s eyes. She squeezed them shut, her hands clawing the air in terror-stricken tremors. Her sharp nails scratched Yan Zhimuo’s arm like a caged bird struggling at death’s door. She sobbed, “I’m sorry, President Yan, I really didn’t mean it. It was Secretary Liu… she tempted me into doing this. My feelings for you are real! Please let me go, I won’t ever do it again, please…”

“Don’t let me hear another word from you,” Yan Zhimuo’s voice was as cold as a whetted blade. His deep eyes were icy and detached, instilling a sense of infinite dread. “Disgusting.”

The Hallway.

Jian Anmian was gasping for air, trotting toward the lounge where Yan Zhimuo was supposed to be. Behind him, Secretary Liu and Yuwen Chi were constantly telling him to slow down.

According to the original text, the protagonist is supposed to push the door open, see his beloved man entwined with another woman, and immediately run away in a fit of heartbreak without asking a single question.

The male lead then regains consciousness, throws the woman off, and chases the protagonist down. He would pin the protagonist against the wall in the hallway for a forced kiss. Upon hearing footsteps nearby, he would—in a very clichéd manner—drag the protagonist into an empty room, lose control to the drug, and proceed to treat the protagonist like a “broken ragdoll.”

So, Jian Anmian’s plan was: open the door, turn around, and run.

At the thought of having to run, he felt a bit wilted. Ah… I don’t want to run. I can’t. This broken body will die if I run.

Forget it. Why run? I won’t run.

Once he got inside, he would just lead the male lead directly to a room next door to avoid a public display of affection in the hallway. It would be too embarrassing if someone saw.

Jian Anmian finalized his plan, took a deep breath, walked to the door, gripped the handle, and pushed it open.

However, when he saw the scene inside, his eyes widened in shock.

Yan Zhimuo was holding a woman by the hair, pinning her down against the glass coffee table. The woman’s face was covered in blood and tears. A sharp porcelain shard was pressed deep into her neck; blood was oozing from the wound, leaving trails of crimson across her deathly pale skin. It was a gruesome sight.

Yan Zhimuo’s strong, muscular arms had been shredded by the woman’s nails. Deep bloody scratches crisscrossed his tensed muscles, yet these minor wounds were nothing compared to the state of the woman nearly fainting under his palm.

Looking closer—who else could this wretched woman be but Miss Rong?

In the next second, Yan Zhimuo looked up. His dark, icy gaze met Jian Anmian’s dazed eyes directly.

Jian Anmian felt a sudden wave of numbness crawl across his scalp. His breathing hitched and his heart rate spiked, as if he were the one being pinned down by those hands instead of the woman.

Seeing Jian Anmian standing there in a daze, Yan Zhimuo frowned and called out, “Mianmian, come here.”

The man’s voice was low and heavy, carrying a lingering chill and detachment. He commanded Jian Anmian: “Come to my side.”