After tossing off a cheeky remark and leaving the so-called protagonist Yu Zhe seething in helpless fury, Qin Cheng slowly exited the room.

A scorching gaze burned into his back.

*Another brainless idiot, forever clinging to naive, hot-blooded fantasies.* He’d seen too many like this in his past life—and put down plenty.

Without a harsh lesson, such people would never change.

“To the Group,” Qin Cheng instructed from the back seat.

“Yes, sir.”

The engine rumbled to life. Qin Cheng slouched against the window, gaze drifting listlessly over the passing scenery. A faint shadow flickered in his dark eyes.

Unwanted memories surfaced.

A woman who’d foolishly believed kindness and naive ideals could reform him.

She was a royal dynasty princess he’d kidnapped to evade the righteous sects. Using her as a hostage had saved his skin more than once.

Incredibly naive—convinced no one was born evil. She cooperated fully. Multiple times, when Qin Cheng nearly died, she deliberately stepped in front of him, pretending capture to force the righteous cultivators to retreat.

*No brains at all.*

In the end, she died.

By Qin Cheng’s own hand.

From the moment he saw her, a strange anger had stirred. The woman in his memory looked almost identical to Lu Kongya—even that same infuriating naivety.

"Tsk…"

“Young Master Qin, there’s a call. Take it?” The chauffeur glanced back.

“Contact name?”

“Uh… ‘Silly Cat’.”

“Put it through.”

“Yes, sir.”

Qin Cheng accepted the phone with one hand pressed to his abdomen. The screen glowed with the nickname.

A sweet, childish voice chirped through:

“Hello? Is Young Master Qin there?”

“Grandpa’s here. What’s up?”

“Coming back to eat tonight?”

“Heading to the company. Probably not back.”

“Oh.”

“Mm.”

He hung up, tossed the phone aside, and leaned against the window again.

Eyes slightly narrowed, he lazily watched the world blur past.

*Ah… this breeze feels kinda nice…*

…

Time flew—or the car sped. Soon, they pulled up at the base of the Azure Cloud Group tower.

“We’ve arrived, Young Master Qin. Head straight to the Chairman?”

The chauffeur opened the door respectfully, rousing Qin Cheng from near-slumber, a black coat draped over his arm.

“Mm. Wait—what’s your name again?”

Qin Cheng stepped out, glancing up at the lavish skyscraper in mild surprise. He took the coat, draped it over his shoulders to hide the bloodstain on his shirt, and turned.

“Lao Biao, sir. Though you used to call me Xiao Biao.”

“Lao Biao? Who gave you that ridiculous name?”

Qin Cheng shot him a deadpan look. The man seemed so polished—yet the name was pure chaos.

“Uh… well… you did, sir…”

Lao Biao scratched his head sheepishly.

Qin Cheng paused, speechless. He waved a hand. “Forget it. Let’s go up. I’ll rename you later.”

“Understood, Young Master Qin.”

Lao Biao scratched his head again and hurried after him.

Guided by the original owner’s memories, Qin Cheng headed toward his so-called parents. Staff bowed and nodded as he passed—mildly surprising him.

Just as they reached the elevator, a couple emerged, arms entwined, and blocked his path.

Qin Cheng frowned. He vaguely recognized the man.

“Hey, Young Master Qin—off somewhere? Not even a hello for your buddy?”

“Sir Si, Young Master Qin is currently—"

“Shut it. Who asked you?”

The impeccably dressed young man flicked a dismissive hand, smacking Lao Biao across the cheek. He turned to Qin Cheng with an exaggerated smirk. “Heard some penniless kid sent you to the hospital the other day. Was gonna visit! Or… don’t you recognize me now?”

He squeezed the flamboyant woman beside him and winked lewdly at Qin Cheng.

Lao Biao hesitated, then silently retreated behind Qin Cheng.

Qin Cheng studied the man a moment. Still drawing a blank.

“Lao Biao. Who is this?”

“Si Weimao, sir. Younger brother of your fiancée, Miss Si Qiuyi.”

A faint red mark bloomed on Lao Biao’s cheek.

Ah. Qin Cheng remembered now.

Si Weimao—son of Si Lijun, brother of Si Qiuyi. Scum of society, a spoiled heir drowning in vice. Worse than the original owner: his life was just women, or the road to find them. Nicknamed “the Playboy Demon”—a title even the original owner conceded to.

“Whoa, whoa! Did the beating scramble your brains, *Young Master Qin*? Can’t even recognize me?”

Si Weimao jabbed a finger mockingly at Qin Cheng’s head, sarcasm dripping.

Qin Cheng frowned, silent. For Si Qiuyi’s sake, he turned to walk around him—no time for this.

Si Weimao blocked him again, shoving the woman forward with a leer—

Then froze.

Qin Cheng’s icy glare hit him like a physical blow.

An indescribable terror surged through Si Weimao. His legs gave way. He crumpled to the floor.

“Knock this trash out. Carry him off. I’ll handle it.”

Qin Cheng stepped into the elevator without a backward glance.

“Yes, Young Master Qin.”