Meng Yiran remained utterly calm.
After all, this was a soul that had weathered the grand spectacle of transmigrating into a book and turning into a little kitten. Accepting her return to human form came naturally and swiftly. She walked over to the vanity by the bed and gazed at the woman in the mirror—a cascade of silver long hair tumbling to her waist, golden pupils reminiscent of a beast’s.
Her human appearance was largely the same as in her previous life, but it was as if a beauty filter from a photo app had been permanently fused to her face, elevating her plain seven-out-of-ten looks to a stunning nine.
Meng Yiran had never been fond of her original mature, imperious beauty. Cupping her face, she turned to Tong Yuwu and let out a wistful sigh.
But it didn’t matter. Having a beautiful Doll Lady made everything perfect!
As a modern woman obsessed with BJD dolls, Meng Yiran had often been teased by her friends about it.
Just like those girls who would rather eat instant noodles than skip buying a gorgeous dress, she was willing to sacrifice her own quality of life to lavish her dolls with the best. After transmigrating and becoming a helpless little kitten, unburdened by her past ties or worries about work and family, her heart had become wholly devoted to Tong Yuwu. She treated her as her one and only top-tier doll, spoiling her endlessly.
Thus, saving the fragile supporting female character Tong Yuwu became Meng Yiran’s new life mission.
So far, the details had a few minor deviations, but the main plot remained unchanged—
On the day of the Coming-of-Age Banquet, Tong Yuwu had been ambushed and wounded, and the culprit had likely escaped scot-free.
The good news was that her injuries weren’t severe enough to keep her bedridden for months, and she already knew Tong Rencheng was the mastermind. Once Tong Yuwu recovered, she could settle the score with him herself—no need to wait a year for the Male Protagonist to swoop in and steal the spotlight.
Meng Yiran clenched her fist and pumped it lightly, flashing a triumphant smile of partial victory. She approached the bedside and leaned down, whispering softly to Tong Yuwu, “With me here, I absolutely won’t let that scumbag deceive you.”
A wisp of warm breath brushed Tong Yuwu’s eyelashes. The sleeping beauty’s long, curled lashes quivered faintly, like butterflies poised to take flight.
Meng Yiran’s heart itched with delight.
One of the joys of owning BJD dolls was dressing them up beautifully. When she was still a cat, she had the will but not the means. But now? Things were different.
She was a fully grown human with exceptional autonomy and dexterity.
Meng Yiran wrestled inwardly for three seconds before reason was soundly thrashed by desire.
She climbed onto the bed and gently lifted Tong Yuwu’s head, pillowing it on her lap.
Moonlight kissed the carpet, a gentle breeze tangled the gauzy curtains, and in the dead of night, even the chirps of birds and insects had fallen silent. The world around them was utterly still.
Yet Meng Yiran’s ears rang with noise—her heartbeat growing louder with each thump, more deafening than summer thunder. A sudden downpour crashed down, drenching her to the bone, sending a jolt through her like an electric shock. Her fingertips tingled with tension.
Stripped of her Coming-of-Age Banquet finery, Tong Yuwu’s raven hair spilled freely. Meng Yiran stroked the ends gently, ensuring she wouldn’t wake her, then mustered her courage. With delicate motions, she parted a lock from behind Tong Yuwu’s ear, dividing it into four strands, and began braiding intently. This era lacked convenient clips or hair ties, but Tong Yuwu had plenty of lovely silk ribbons—perfect for securing and adorning.
After spending some time braiding both sides, she tugged lightly at the crown to loosen it, aiming for a fluffier look. But that was when the trouble started—
The previously still Tong Yuwu stirred abruptly, as if trapped in a nightmare, beginning to thrash restlessly.
Meng Yiran leaned down at once, soothing her by the ear. “There, there. Don’t be scared.”
After a brief hesitation, she added, “I’m just braiding your hair, to make Yuwu even prettier.”
Tong Yuwu might not have heard, but she gradually relaxed. Then, from her lips came a murmured pair of words: “Mother?”
Meng Yiran shook her head. “Ahem, no, it’s not me.”
Tong Yuwu’s nose reddened, and moments later, two teardrops welled from the corners of her eyes.
Meng Yiran panicked and hastily wiped them away, then drew her into her arms and rocked her gently.
She began to regret her impulsiveness. She shouldn’t have rushed to fuss with Tong Yuwu like this, but she hadn’t been able to resist—just like a binge-watcher who knows they have to wake up at six the next morning but stays up anyway.
“Don’t cry, don’t cry,” she cooed. “It’s my fault for waking you. Please don’t cry.”
Tong Yuwu half-opened her eyes, her pupils veiled in mist, her gaze unfocused.
She reached out with both arms and wrapped them around Meng Yiran, her voice choked with sobs. “Don’t leave. Don’t… don’t abandon me.”
The motion pressed them tightly together. A seductive warmth rose from their points of contact, soon blooming into a flush across Meng Yiran’s cheeks. Her hands flailed awkwardly in the air, unsure where to land, which only allowed Tong Yuwu to wind herself more snugly around her, trapping her in that embrace.
In the midst of their tussle, the bedding scattered everywhere, and the skirt clinging to Tong Yuwu’s body became hopelessly wrinkled. The hem rode up, exposing her delicate ankles and a tantalizing glimpse of smooth calf.
“I won’t leave you,” Meng Yiran murmured, licking the corner of her lips. Taking advantage of Tong Yuwu’s hazy state, she confessed her feelings in a whisper. “I like you so much—how could I ever abandon you?”
Tong Yuwu gazed at her with a dazed expression, her eyes searching. “Really?”
The loose neckline finally gave way, slipping from her flawless skin. Moonlight took the opportunity to caress her exquisite collarbone.
Those violet eyes held some enchanting power, drawing Meng Yiran in until she couldn’t pull away. As if under a spell, she leaned in slowly. By the time she came back to her senses, her lips were already pressed against Tong Yuwu’s. The softness between them was intoxicating, and Meng Yiran nearly lost herself completely. It took tremendous willpower to pull back, her gaze still locked on those pale pink lips.
She forced herself to turn away. “Sorry, I shouldn’t…”
The word “have” drowned in the press of lips as Tong Yuwu suddenly took the initiative. Meng Yiran’s eyes widened in shock, her mind going blank.
But Tong Yuwu’s sweet, soft tongue fumbled clumsily against her lips, quickly reigniting Meng Yiran’s desire. In response, she teasingly nipped at the tip before drawing it into her mouth, savoring Tong Yuwu’s essence while yielding to her eager exploration.
Meng Yiran had thought this was her own desecration of the noble miss she adored. Yet in their exchange, Tong Yuwu’s longing—for her, or perhaps for intimacy itself—burned even fiercer. The difference was that Tong Yuwu knew nothing and acted on pure instinct, while Meng Yiran, though inexperienced, drew on a wealth of theoretical knowledge to take the lead.
The noble rose unfurled in lavish layers, blooming to its fullest before instinctively trying to close, only to be gently peeled open again—utterly exquisite and endearing. And in the overlooked shadows, rose vines crept upward, binding their prey securely.
When the storm finally passed, Tong Yuwu drifted into an exhausted slumber, her right hand clenched in a fist, clutching tightly to the ends of Meng Yiran’s hair.
Meng Yiran pressed a soft kiss to her cheek and held her close, enveloped in her fragrant warmth as she too fell into dreams.
What was in that medicine bottle??