After Transmigrating into a Sadistic Novel, the Socially Anxious Sickly Beauty Just Wants to Sleep - Chapter 19

The next morning, when Jian Anmian woke up and went downstairs for breakfast, the man had already gone to work as usual.

Auntie Wang set out the plates and said with a smile, “Someone delivered a painting this morning. Mr. Yan specifically gave me instructions that it’s a gift for you. He asked me to check where you’d like to place it once you were awake.”

Jian Anmian paused, knowing it was the peony painting from the auction. “Just put it in my room,” he said.

Auntie Wang agreed happily. “Alright! Once you’ve finished eating, I’ll bring it up, and you can see where it looks best.”

Jian Anmian picked up an egg tart and took a bite. Suddenly, the taste felt familiar. He looked at Auntie Wang in confusion.

Auntie Wang pursed her lips and smiled. “Oh, did you taste it? The secret recipe came from the kitchen of the hotel you went to yesterday. Mr. Yan said you liked them, so he specifically bought the recipe and told me to make them for you from now on. Before he left this morning, he made a point to remind me to prepare a batch immediately for when you woke up. How is it? Does it taste the same as the hotel’s? My skills aren’t bad, right? I’m not bragging, but I’m definitely not inferior to some five-star hotel! But don’t eat too many—Mr. Yan said you’re lactose intolerant, so your daily dessert intake has to be strictly controlled.”

Jian Anmian took another bite. For some reason, his face turned a subtle shade of red. He licked a bit of lychee jam from his lips, his lashes trembling as he murmured, “Mmm… it’s delicious.”

Just like yesterday—sweet.

Half an hour later, Jian Anmian was lying lazily on his bed, staring blankly at the peony painting hanging next to his desk. Seeing the painting made him think of the events at the banquet.

Although he had been terrified at the sight of such a bloody scene, the man had immediately coaxed him with such gentleness and patience, even giving him sweet egg tarts. He wasn’t afraid of the man hitting him anymore; a domestic abuser could never be a “Protagonist Gong,” and in the novel, the lead truly never hit the protagonist—he only “made up for it” in bed.

Through the man’s actions last night, he became even more determined not to fall in love with him.

Only after the protagonist died did the male lead truly start treating him well, and by then, the story was over. Before that, the lead’s love was exactly as he had shown last night: autocratic, overbearing, brutal, and cold.

As Jian Anmian pondered, he casually checked his phone. Upon opening Weibo, he found a trending topic about yesterday’s charity auction. He blinked and clicked on it.

As promised, there was no report on his personal information. Although the photos included shots of him and the man, they only showed their backs. Below the photos were comments speculating about the mysterious “socialite wife.”

“Whose young master just graduated this year? Since he married President Yan, his family background must be impressive.”

“Holy crap, 18 years old? Didn’t he just graduate high school? Is it possible we’re schoolmates!”

“Their backs look so good together! The way President Yan holds that tiny hand… so cute, I’m dying over the size difference! Screaming!”

“Classic rich family stuff. Tsk tsk, the old man’s wife is a pure high school graduate [doge].”

“??? President Yan is young too, okay? He’s only 30, handsome, rich, and capable. Many people haven’t even finished their PhDs at that age. How is he an ‘old man’?”

These netizens… what are they talking about!

Jian Anmian was too embarrassed to read further and exited Weibo. On a whim, he searched “Yan Zhimuo” on Baidu. The encyclopedia entry showed photos of him on finance magazine covers and videos of interviews, but the “Spouse” section simply listed “Mr. Jian” without revealing his full name. He was being protected very well.

It was the meticulous care and protection of a mature man.

Jian Anmian was dazed for a long time. Eventually, his fingers twitched against his phone, and he snapped back to reality. He silently put the phone down, curled back into his duvet, and went back to sleep.

Regardless, if he wanted to remain a “salted fish” who slept all day and died quietly in the end, he had to guard his heart.

Jian Anmian didn’t know exactly how Yan Zhimuo handled the Rong family. He only knew that a “Domineering CEO” always kept his word. Not to mention, the Rongs had aligned themselves with the scumbag father and were stupid enough to try drugging him—who knew how they would try to screw him over in the future? The Rong family definitely had to go.

However, a company that large wouldn’t go bankrupt instantly. A while later, while scrolling Weibo, Jian Anmian saw news of internal turmoil within the Rong Group and knew Yan Zhimuo had begun his move.

Of course, none of this concerned Jian Anmian. He returned to his life as a salted fish who did nothing but eat and sleep. His interaction with Yan Zhimuo returned to the state of not seeing each other for days at a time.

In the blink of an eye, the long summer vacation passed, and it was finally time for Jian Anmian to go to school. Registration was over the weekend, and classes started Monday.

Yan Zhimuo actually didn’t work overtime; he stayed home to help Jian Anmian pack and personally drive him to school.

Jian Anmian sat on the edge of the bed, watching helplessly as the tall man rolled up his sleeves and squatted awkwardly before the closet, taking out clothes one by one to pack into the suitcase.

“Mr. Yan, you don’t have to do this. I… I can do it myself.”

Yan Zhimuo opened a storage bin and saw a neatly arranged pile of pure white fabric. His lips curled. He hooked a finger through one pair, lifted it, and gave Jian Anmian a wicked smile. “What do you think this is?”

“Mr. Yan?!” Jian Anmian’s face turned beet red. He lunged forward to snatch his underwear back, staring with wide, watery eyes. He was fuming but too timid to speak out, only managing a weak, angry whisper: “Please… please don’t do that!”

Yan Zhimuo turned a deaf ear, pointing at the pile with a deep, laughing voice. “So small. So cute. Just like you.”

“Mr. Yan!!” Jian Anmian was about to explode! Mr. Male Lead! You rogue!!

“Secretly cursing me in your head? Hmm?” Yan Zhimuo leaned in to pinch Jian Anmian’s puffed-out cheeks, his eyes flashing with excitement. “Be good, curse me out loud so I can hear.”

Jian Anmian’s eyes widened in disbelief. His lips trembled as he spoke. “Mr… Mr. Yan, you are such a pervert…”

He actually wants to hear me curse at him? A total pervert!

Yan Zhimuo was committed to being a “pervert” to the end. “Good boy, that little mouth is as sweet as honey. So cute.”

Jian Anmian: “…” Help!!

After he’d had enough fun, Yan Zhimuo rubbed Jian Anmian’s soft earlobe and said, “Go sit on the bed and wait for me. I’ll call you when I’m done packing.”

Jian Anmian floated back to the bed in a state of shock, pulling the duvet over his legs. The sheets and covers were all new—a warm, cozy orange color. The bedframe had been changed from dull mahogany to an exquisitely carved off-white. Next to the pillow sat a plush, sleeping puppy; Jian Anmian hugged it every night—it was soft and comfortable.

Even the closet, sofa, carpet, and curtains had been replaced recently. The gloomy black, white, and gray had become warm greens, yellows, and whites. Looking around, it felt as if the room were bathed in the gentle sunlight of late autumn or early winter. The warm orange tones were inviting, and the “starry sky” chandelier above looked like the glow of a sunset. Just looking at the room made one want to sleep.

The room was completely different from when he first moved in, and he truly loved it.

Before he’d been sitting for two minutes, his eyes began to droop. He nodded off, looking as if he were about to collapse into a nap. It was only 7:00 AM; since transmigrating, he had never woken up this early! Even though he had fallen asleep before 8:00 PM last night, he was still so tired… zZZ.

“Mianmian, come here,” the man called suddenly.

“Oh… okay!” Jian Anmian snapped awake and scrambled off the bed to the man’s side.

“Wear this set for registration today,” Yan Zhimuo said, handing over a carefully selected outfit.

“Okay,” Jian Anmian looked at Yan Zhimuo, his fingers tightening on the clothes. He murmured, “Mr. Yan, can you wait outside for a moment?”

Seeing the kid looking wary of a “lecher,” Yan Zhimuo couldn’t help but laugh. “Fine, I’m going.” He pinched Jian Anmian’s face and didn’t make things difficult. “Call me when you’re changed.”

He stepped out, and the next second, he heard the sound of the door being double-locked.

Yan Zhimuo paused, then laughed out of sheer annoyance. He’s really guarding against me like I’m a pervert? Afraid of a sneak attack?

But… that does sound like something I would do. Tsk.

Five minutes later.

Jian Anmian slowly opened the door just a crack, peeking out his messy head. “Mr. Yan, I’m changed…”

Yan Zhimuo pushed the door open without hesitation. Jian Anmian retreated nervously, standing in the room with his fingers twisting the hem of his shirt, his lashes trembling like a butterfly’s wings.

He wore an off-white linen long-sleeved shirt with a wide sailor-style collar, accented by a blue-and-white striped tie. Below were cotton beige drawstring trousers, paired with light, white canvas shoes. The navy laces matched the tie perfectly. The overall style was fresh and clean, like a breeze on a summer night.

“Mr. Yan?” Jian Anmian looked up when he didn’t hear a voice for a long time.

Yan Zhimuo simply stared at him with dark, heavy eyes. Then he walked over, took Jian Anmian’s hand, and led him to the full-length mirror.

In the mirror, Yan Zhimuo—even at home—wore an elegant, high-class black shirt. The textured fabric clung to his solid muscles. He was tall and sturdy, the type of build that looks lean in clothes. His sleeves were rolled up high for convenience, exposing sexy, vascular forearms. Below were black casual suit trousers with a metal-buckled belt over long, powerful legs.

He had one hand casually in his pocket, while the other was wrapped possessively around Jian Anmian’s thin waist. He leaned down, his breath tickling Jian Anmian’s trembling ear. Staring at the shy youth in the mirror, he smirked and praised him in an intimate, low tone: “What a beautiful little friend.”

Jian Anmian stole a quick glance at the mirror and lowered his head, face flushing. He felt an unspeakable sense of shame. Compared to such a mature, tall man, he looked so childish—like a little kid.

“It… it’s because Mr. Yan has good taste.”

“No, it’s because our little friend is so beautiful that he can make these clothes look so good,” Yan Zhimuo whispered.

It was a pity the kid’s skin was so sensitive that he couldn’t show his arms or legs. He would look even better in a short-sleeved shirt and shorts. However… Yan Zhimuo glanced down at Jian Anmian’s snow-white neck, the curve as graceful as a swan’s, even showing fine, downy hairs.

Yan Zhimuo’s gaze darkened. Better not to show it after all, he thought.

Being praised made Jian Anmian flustered. “Thank you for the compliment, Mr. Yan.”

Yan Zhimuo was nearly dying of the cuteness. How was there such an obedient kid in the world? He couldn’t even take a compliment without blushing like a sweet sea-salt flavored cake.

He checked his phone, patted Jian Anmian’s hair, and smiled as he took his hand. “Let’s go. It’s about time. I have to take my little Madam to school.”