A dozen minutes later, Yang Haoran finally calmed down. He pondered whether to send a message to Shen Devil right now to test the waters.
No sooner said than done. Buoyed by the message from his buddy, he brimmed with an oozing confidence.
After all, compared to the male lead in the book, their personalities were similar—he just lacked the courage to act on it.
He opened his contacts, tapped on the one labeled “Shen Devil,” and hammered out a message.
“Aunt Shen, didn’t you say last time you wanted to see my dick?”
Just as he was about to hit send, Yang Haoran felt it was too blunt. Better to be a bit more subtle.
So he deleted “dick” and changed it to: “Aunt Shen, didn’t you say last time you wanted to see my little brother?”
This time, he was satisfied. He clicked send. He didn’t have a little brother, of course—what that euphemism meant, a seasoned pro like Aunt Shen would get in a heartbeat.
At the same time, across G City, Shen Qing had just finished her shower. She draped a white bathrobe over her exquisite figure, barely covering the key spots, and stepped into her bedroom. Right then, the screen of the phone on her desk lit up, followed by the chime of a message notification.
She glanced at it without much thought, grabbed her hairdryer, and sat at the vanity to blow-dry her hair first.
She had already handled the naughty pics. After her shower, she planned to carry out the task—use her alt account to seduce Little Ranran.
The thought of doing it under the cover of the Fallen Angel Game, with her best friend Ruoxi in the know, openly carrying out her orders to seduce him—it put her in high spirits. In the mirror, the corners of her lips curved up in a smile.
Meanwhile, Yang Haoran stared at the chat interface with no reply. He scratched his head. Had Shen Devil not seen it, or was she unavailable?
They had chatted before, but it was always her initiating—teasing and flirting with him. Earlier on, she would send pics of her sheer black stockings or sexy cheongsam outfits to tempt him. But once she realized he was all talk and no action, it turned into pure teasing.
Recalling those times, Yang Haoran felt a pang of regret. He had missed so many chances. But it wasn’t too late now. His eyes gleamed as he watched the chat, waiting.
Five minutes… ten minutes… fifteen minutes passed…
He deflated a bit. Looked like Shen Devil really hadn’t seen it or had gone to bed.
Over on her end, after blow-drying her hair for a dozen minutes, Shen Qing was done. Her silky black locks cascaded down to her slender waist like fine silk. She picked up her pink iPhone from the desk, swiped to unlock it, and immediately spotted the message from the contact labeled “Little Ranran.”
She scanned the content, and surprise flickered across her alluring face. When did Little Ranran get so bold? Charging right at her like that? Had the boy’s hormones finally kicked in?
Normally, if he got this forward, she would fire back with some playful banter, diving into an in-depth exchange.
Shen Qing paused to think. But now, with another line in play, better to keep her main account’s usual vibe. She typed back: “I’ve already got the screenshots. I’ll tell your mom tomorrow.”
After sending, she could already picture Little Ranran’s panicked face on the other end. A wicked grin spread across her features.
Then, she copied Yang Haoran’s WeChat ID, logged out of the account, and switched to the alt she had registered yesterday.
In the add friend screen, she pasted it, searched, and sent the request—all in one smooth motion.
WeChat had two ways to add friends: by phone number or by ID code. Using the phone number would tip him off since acquaintances knew it, which wouldn’t help with the Second Ring task.
She appreciated the Fallen Angel Game’s twisted task conditions. No early reveals—that way, the thrill would hit harder when Little Ranran discovered her Bitch identity.
What she never imagined was that, due to one freak twist of fate, her true face had already been exposed to Yang Haoran.
……
Meanwhile, Yang Haoran stared in stunned disbelief at Aunt Shen’s reply. In the past, he might have panicked, but now he was brimming with boldness.
After a moment’s thought, he figured it out. Shen Devil had lost interest in him and shifted to teasing as her main strategy, taking joy in his reactions.
Now that he was taking the initiative, she was caught off guard, sticking to her old habits.
After all, she had no idea he knew her true identity.
“Doesn’t look like it’ll be that easy.”
Yang Haoran felt a twinge of disappointment, but compared to a worldly temptress like Shen Devil, what was a little setback? His fighting spirit remained high.
The message from his good bro Zhou Shiwen had given him the guts of a bear and a leopard.
Just as he was about to type another probe, a friend request popped up.
He tapped it open, and the first thing that caught his eye was the profile pic: a side shot of a stunning bombshell in revealing clothes, her killer curves on full display—busty, bootylicious, poured into a flimsy erotic costume. It lit a fire in him, his mind crawling with itchiness, fantasizing about pinning down this man-killing vixen and making her sing under his triumphant manhood.
The background was a lavish bedroom, her face mosaicked out. It didn’t look like a stock photo—more like private glamour shots.
He had been about to reject it, but that avatar changed his mind. He hit accept!
The chat opened, and her nickname read “Wandering Little Bitch.”
That name, paired with the pic, sparked all kinds of wild thoughts.
Yang Haoran had fewer reservations with strangers, especially since the avatar and name screamed anything but a proper lady.
He typed out a filthy string of words, ready to send, when her message came first.
“Hey, wanna make a friend?”
Yang Haoran blinked. So polite? What a waste of that avatar and name.
He deleted the raunchy text and replied in flowery fashion: “Of course.” Then he followed up: “How’d you get my WeChat ID?”
“I lost a bet with my gal pal. She punched in a random number—if it was a guy, I had to add him and play a game.”
That convenient? Yang Haoran was skeptical. He typed back: “What kind of game?”
“You ever heard of SM?”
Well, damn. Now it clicked—this was the right way to open things. No false pretenses, true to the name and pic.
With her dropping the act, Yang Haoran fired off: “Heard of it? I’ve played it.” Then immediately: “What about you? You in the scene too?”
