Chapter 20: The Aloof Heiress

Someone as cool and untouchable as the crescent moon hanging high in the sky became just an ordinary person racked by fear of her own insufficiency when reaching for that long-craved piece of candy at last.

Jiang Li drew a deep breath and fell silent for a long while. Luo Yihuan lowered her lashes and inwardly mocked herself endlessly.

See? She’s just pitying you. How could anyone fall for that pathetic fool—deceived, bullied, stupidly squatting off to the side and crying her eyes out in secret?

Forcing herself to ignore that faint flicker of resistance in her heart, Luo Yihuan regretted trying to dredge up this memory. It wasn’t some shining highlight from the past anyway.

Whether Jiang Li remembered or not hardly mattered. As long as it was Luo Yihuan by her side now, everything was fine.

The corners of her mouth curved into a gloomy smile, while scorching malice spread through her eyes. Luo Yihuan gazed at the folds in the thigh beneath her palm, where a layer of pure white concealed all the rot and darkness underneath.

Just like her: smooth and flawless on the surface like a bright moon, but rotten and foul within—left only with a frantically hesitant heart and mouth, too terrified to entrust to anyone.

The shadow beside her stayed silent for a long time before finally stirring.

She called Luo Yihuan’s name softly at first. Luo Yihuan murmured a low response, and then the girl said, “Lift your head. Look at me.”

Luo Yihuan raised her head and plunged into a brilliant sea of stars. The girl’s eyes shone brightly, like a gorgeous and radiant morning star piercing straight to the depths of her abyss.

Listen—it was the sound of snow melting.

Her gaze was so tender, like a mountain stream formed from thawed spring snow, trickling into the heart and flowing over long-dried gullies.

Unbeknownst to herself, a blush crept into the corners of Luo Yihuan’s eyes. The eyes fixed upon her carried some inexplicable emotion.

Jiang Li wasn’t sure what Luo Yihuan had realized—or remembered. Though she harbored a one percent suspicion deep in her heart, she didn’t dare believe it.

But no matter the truth, seeing the red tinge at Luo Yihuan’s eyes, seeing her hesitation to speak despite clearly wanting to, left Jiang Li feeling a dull ache in her chest.

This shouldn’t be how it was. Luo Yihuan shouldn’t be like this.

“Hey, Luo Yihuan.”

“Back when we were kids, we often had no say in things and couldn’t win arguments either. Maybe when you recall those fragments now, they feel weak and spineless, but that’s just how we were then. It’s the reaction most people would have in the moment—nothing shameful about it at all.”

Jiang Li’s breath caught as she met those eyes, deep and serene as ancient pools. Shy warmth timidly sprouted at her ear tips.

Luo Yihuan didn’t speak. She simply gazed at her quietly.

“I… I told you…”

Her voice trembled at the start. Unseen even to herself, a flicker of heartache softened the amber depths of her eyes, gentle as autumn waters. “You don’t know? The first time we met, when I saw that fear peeking from your eyes… I liked that feeling.”

“Because I’m a psychologist.”

A flush stained her cheeks. It was the third time she’d said it, but the shame still proved impossible to suppress.

Desperately working her words into the required phrasing of the task, Jiang Li softly consoled her.

【Ding! Congratulations, host—you’ve completed the task.】

This time, it was 123’s task dialogue that ironically gave Jiang Li the direction she needed.

Ever since returning from that dream, she’d wondered:

Young Luo Yihuan had reached out in friendship at that tender age, only to end up brutally backstabbed. Could that really leave no lasting scars?

All those proactive efforts—climbing for ages with her beloved bento box just to find that person;

Behaving like the well-mannered, understanding child adults adored, always polite to grown-ups and meticulously controlling her every word and deed.

Yet the end result? A savage beating from her father, and the friend she’d poured her heart into turning around and sharing those private wounds as jokes with others.

Could trauma inflicted in childhood really vanish so completely?

Jiang Li suspected what Luo Yihuan truly needed wasn’t gentle words, but love that bound her tight—love that wrapped her wounds with a bandage pulled so snug it brought security instead.

Obvious, unambiguous affection, with her preferences laid utterly bare for Luo Yihuan to see.

Once the words were out, Jiang Li didn’t dare glance at her anymore. These recent contacts had shattered her old assumptions about Luo Yihuan.

She’d always imagined her as a cool, poised powerhouse with depths she couldn’t fathom. Now, though, those certainties wavered.

An overly quiet atmosphere enveloped the office. Amid the stacked layers of breathing sounds each suppressed fiercely, Jiang Li could hear only the thud of her own heartbeat.

Spilled words were water under the bridge. Luo Yihuan remained silent, her pitch-black eyes drilling into Jiang Li’s with an almost predatory intensity—faint flickers of excitement glinting at their depths.

The faint red at her eyes grew more intense in sync with the rising emotion beneath, shattering any trace of pity and swirling into a dazed, frenzied madness.

A chill crept down Jiang Li’s spine.

Luo Yihuan—is she…?

It wasn’t Jiang Li’s imagination. Luo Yihuan was thrilled right now, a unstoppable surge crashing through her heart.

Affirmed. Lili said that version of me didn’t embarrass her—she said it was her favorite feeling. She likes me. Likes me. LIKES ME.

When Jiang Li glanced over, delight bubbled uncontrollably in Luo Yihuan’s depths. She ached to grab that hand, but no—not during the interview.

Licking her lips amid the agitation, her eyes slid toward that slender waist, now faintly quivering as if sensing something amiss. She let out a soft chuckle.

Such fine, pale skin on the waist, the shirt so thin that any movement made it gleam dazzlingly white. Luo Yihuan thought how perfect it would feel to dig in her fingers there.

Pressing her lips to that little abdomen, trailing kisses and dense, scattered marks… She would hold back from anything excessive. She’d leave only beautiful patterns marring Lili’s skin.

And that tiny black mole at the waist—trickle wet trails and saliva drops onto it, and it would be exquisite.

Jiang Li followed her line of sight, realizing a sliver of her waist was exposed. Her face and ears burned crimson. As she reached to tug her white shirt back down, she swore she could feel the scorching heat of that gaze.

It was nearly melting her away.

Her adjusting hand trembled twice more under the devouring hunger of those eyes.

Abruptly, Jiang Li recalled a certain academy course they’d all taken on character archetypes. It had touched on the Female Lead 2 dynamic.

Unlike the male or female leads, bound by the World Consciousness to fulfill its predetermined fates, Female Leads 2 gained startling autonomy once freed from the main storyline.

Luo Yihuan… just how far off the rails would you have to go…?

Luo Yihuan caught the emotion swimming in her eyes and let out a few low chuckles. She leaned in closer, bowing her body to hover at Jiang Li’s side. “Thank you for the free counsel, Doctor Jiang. Truly enlightening.”

She’d deliberately angled away from the camera, loose strands of hair draping across Jiang Li’s cheek like a lover murmuring sweet nothings—her lips curved in a smile.

Her words emerged slow and deliberate, each syllable lingering on her tongue as if too precious to release without savoring.

Warm breath tickled her ear, an unbearable itch. Jiang Li shifted away slightly, but the body behind her pressed its advantage, leaving her frozen in place to weather the surrounding stares.

A little later, with no further movement coming from behind—Luo Yihuan seemingly content to simply loom over her—Jiang Li twisted her head.

An achingly perfect face filled her vision up close: lashes striking and distinct, eyes brimming with clean, aggrieved reproach at being ignored.

All traces of her earlier mad obsession had vanished, concealed beneath a flawless mask of harmless innocence. Jiang Li’s courage swelled again.

“Sit back down.”

Fortunately, Luo Yihuan harbored no plans for greater transgressions. At those words, she obediently settled back into her seat.

Leaning against the sofa, Luo Yihuan watched Jiang Li exhale and visibly relax. Amusement glinted in her eyes.

They’d returned to their original distance, but now a vivid crimson peeked from the earlobe hidden in Jiang Li’s hair strands—a mark Luo Yihuan herself had painted there.

Her smile was mild and pleasant, floating only skin-deep to hide the undercurrent of covetous greed beneath, like a vivid python lurking patiently, careful not to alert its prey.

Just biding its time for that final, devouring bite.

What Jiang Li had meant as soothing turned out—quite by accident—to be the key that sprang open the floodgates of Luo Yihuan’s desires entirely. All that pent-up avarice now had a solid anchor, thanks to a single point of validation.

She shot a glance at Wen Li, who was struggling to suppress a grin. Luo Yihuan shot her a few warning looks, but Bai Yu promptly coughed to cover a chuckle of her own.

Covering her mouth to stifle an irrepressible smile, Bai Yu caught everyone’s eyes landing on her. She raised a hand, sliding it across her lips in a zipping motion. “Please, go on.”

“That segment’s scrapped,” Luo Yihuan announced, staring down Wen Li.

Jiang Li’s tension eased upon hearing that, the words momentarily blotting out her own right to veto the broadcast anyway.

Her mind was thoroughly rattled by Luo Yihuan.

Wen Li picked up the tea on the table for a token sip, steadying the grin on her face before setting it down with her elegant smile restored.

“Very well, Boss Luo.”

“Ladies, shall we continue?”

The questions that followed lacked the first one’s sting, and the two handled the rest of the interview smoothly.

Jiang Li had to admit it: Luo Yihuan possessed undeniable magnetism once in full work mode.

Beyond weaving in business jargon and timely plugs during relevant topics, Luo Yihuan displayed broad and profound insight into psychology.

When the talk turned to child psychology, they delved into an in-depth analysis, and the more they discussed, the more astonished Jiang Li became by the extent of Luo Yihuan’s knowledge.

Bai Yu simply watched from the side with a smile, silent throughout.

“Excellent. That wraps up today’s interview.”

Wen Li closed the file, rose to her feet, and gave a round of applause. “We’ll send drafts of the released clips to both of you later. Just let us know if anything needs adjustments.”

They both nodded. Wen Li and the camera crew gathered their things and left the office.

With the interview over, sunlight outside shifted toward the warm hues of dusk, generously splashing deep oranges across the sky’s canvas to paint a stunning sunset vista.

Bai Yu had plans with her friends and said her goodbyes before heading out ahead of them.

Now only the two of them remained in the office.

The sunset drew Jiang Li’s attention. She drifted to the window, gazing down on the endless expanse.

Pedestrians scurried like ants below, bathed in sunset glow that stamped glowing badges onto the crowds like a sigil adrift on the throng.

Lost in the beauty beyond the glass, Jiang Li had no idea Luo Yihuan was utterly lost in the vision of her framed by the dying light.

Orange halo crowning her hair, she resembled a flawless goddess descended—until, as the sun dipped to the horizon, she tumbled unawares into the arms of a devil crawling from hell.

The air seemed to freeze in that instant. Obsession flickered in Luo Yihuan’s eyes as she extended her own wrist toward the tantalizing silhouette by the window.

“Lili…”

Even the vilest devils had once earned the favoring touch of goddesses—and always would again.

Jiang Li turned, her clear amber eyes locking straight into Luo Yihuan’s. She tilted her head with a smile that bloomed pear-dimple sweetness.

“Luo Yihuan, I’m hungry.”