“Want me to throw him out?”

Out there, Chu Jinghe wore the mask of an abstinent, ice-cold CEO. Up close, he wasn’t cold at all. There was a wolfhound spark in him, a steady warmth under steel, little things that made him glow.

If only she could anchor herself to this CEO. Then she wouldn’t be stuck in this tightrope mess, wind snapping at her balance.

Chi Mu sneaked a glance at his profile, sharp as a moonlit blade. A soft sigh sank in her chest before it reached her lips. She was clear-eyed enough to know his feelings weren’t deep yet—only interest, only the kind that pricked attention. It would take events, tide after tide, to push those waters forward. If he discovered any thread tying her to Chen Ke right now, her “favorability” would crash. Months of slow gains would bleed out like ink in rain.

“No need, Mr. Chu. It’s my mess, I’ll handle it.”

She took the mug he offered and sipped. Warmth slid down, and her thoughts drifted like mist toward the door.

Chen Ke’s mood was a storm with broken rigging. If ugly rumors broke and exposed their tie, she’d be in real trouble. Not just career fallout. Chu Jinghe’s side of the path would go dark.

She needed a private meeting with Chen Ke. And soon, before the wind shifted again.

“Mu-mu, I’m heading overseas on business for a while. Want to come with me?” Watching her ducked head over the coffee, Chu Jinghe went quiet for a heartbeat, then spoke again. “It’s not peaceful here lately. If I’m away, I’m afraid you’ll get pulled into another serious mess.”

“Mm? A serious mess? Me?”

Cradling the mug, she tugged at the corner of her mouth and put on a breeze-light face. “You’re overthinking it, Mr. Chu. Once was bad enough. How would it happen twice? Heaven wouldn’t shove me off the cliff on purpose. And I do take care of myself.”

She’d decided already: any role her System’s “cheat” hadn’t flagged, she wouldn’t touch. Even if someday it meant no scripts at all, she wouldn’t take a project she’d never heard whispered in her timeline.

In the end, Chu Jinghe went abroad alone. Nana Toki saw the leading lady again when she started a new show, a campus romance set in an online game. The title was Bound for Life, a promise written like two names carved in a courtyard tree.

The male lead was predictable: god-tier gamer and campus heartthrob, a wunderkind who drew whispers like swallows to spring.

Nana Toki played the second female lead, a bright, blunt heiress. No romantic pairing. Firmly on the heroine’s side. Her whole toolkit was money, a gleam like gold leaf. Her motto was pure swagger: “If it’s something money can solve in-game, it’s not a problem.” Certified tool character, ironclad. Nana Toki liked it anyway. Twenty-four-seven, no-dead-angle flexing. If she wasn’t flexing on-screen, she was on the way to flex. Tool? Whatever. She was having fun.

As for the male lead casting, there was a snag. Six months ago, that slot had been reserved for Chen Ke. Then he came back from that deserted island and got disfigured. The role shifted to another actor—Zhang Yu. Not a simple man. Nana Toki asked her System for a dossier. Loud, spoiled, a tycoon’s son, a multinational heir slumming in entertainment, buying an identity to play with starlets.

That wasn’t the real hook. The hook was Zhang Yu’s father, Zhang Hongqing—the biggest rival to Chu Jinghe’s company in the original storyline, a shark circling the same reef.

In the book, Zhang Yu was important cannon fodder. He swaggered through the industry like a local tyrant. Later, he even fantasized about coercing Chi Mu, who was already full-grown under her cheat. Money, power, pressure—none of it mattered then. Chi Mu only planned to give him a small lesson, until she learned he was the arch-enemy’s son. She spun him with wild, impossible plays, toppled the multinational like a rotten tree in a storm, and captured Chu Jinghe’s heart.

But now, Zhang Yu had met Chi Mu early by snatching Chen Ke’s male lead slot. She’d opened the Chu Jinghe romance route on nightmare difficulty, thorns on every turn. One misstep, and it was a bottomless fall.

Nana Toki set up a small stool with sunflower seeds, ready to watch the villain grind the heroine down.

Zhang Yu was a seasoned gentleman-beast. Before any scenes with Chi Mu, he behaved. A hint of propriety, polished shoes under neon. Once they started their opposing scenes, his nature slipped out. Hands strayed under excuses, touch draped in “building chemistry.”

Chi Mu had read the whole book. She knew what sort of man he was. Yet right now she had nothing—no wings, no shield. If she angered him, a flick of his fingers could end her. She glanced toward the director and crew, a silent plea like a lantern in fog. They looked through her. One eye open, one shut. Everyone knew Zhang Yu’s background. Only fools would intervene.

She was cursed by double drums. Every day she got crushed on-screen by Nana Toki, then groped in opposing scenes by Zhang Yu. Rinse, repeat. Crushed by Nana Toki. Groped by Zhang Yu. Male and female torment, a loop like a broken record.

Her nerves felt frayed thin as a violin string.

“Mu-mu jie, dinner tonight?” After the day’s shoot, a message popped from Bai Jing.

Chi Mu stared at her phone for a long time. No warmth rose, only a chalky fatigue. Bai Jing had changed. He’d been a pure, clueless boy. Now there was aim in his steps, a shadow. Even in bed, he felt like a quiet revenge, rough, no trace of tenderness. The contraceptives had her cycle tangled.

“Next time. I’m not feeling well lately.” She sent the text and didn’t look again. All she wanted was a hot shower, a meal, and sleep.

Night flowed. Cars passed like rivers. In the back seat of her agent’s car, she watched the window scenery streak like brushstrokes. She drifted until her agent said they’d arrived, and the spell snapped.

“Thanks, Sister Zhao.”

She mumbled it, then dragged her tired body up the apartment stairs. She wanted to be alone. Chu Jinghe was away on business. He wouldn’t notice where she slept tonight.

She fumbled to her door, keys cold like coins in winter. The lock clicked. Before she could switch on the light, a black shape lunged from inside. A hand clamped her mouth. Her heart jumped like a trapped sparrow.

“Shut up.”

A man’s rasp burned her ear. Afraid he’d escalate, she didn’t fight. She followed his pressure and eased the door closed.

When he felt her go still, the hand left her mouth like a tide pulling back.

“It’s you—Chen Ke!”

She reached for the light switch beside her. “How are you here?”

He didn’t like that. His right hand shot out and dragged her close, forcing her chest to his. “Look closely. See who I am.”

Knifemarks crossed his face like cracked ice. Look long enough and you saw—they weren’t carved by others. Chi Mu stared. Understanding crawled up her spine, cold as riverwater.

“You’re… Jiang Shi.”

“Yeah. Me.” His scarred features twisted, a storm face warped by pain. “Thanks to you and your boyfriend, I can’t go anywhere. I live like a rat, hiding in your apartment.”

His eyes were bloodshot, veins like red threads. Chi Mu held still, voice as thin as paper.

“How are you here?”

She hadn’t told anyone her address. How did Jiang Shi find it?