Chapter 1: Your Tricks No Longer Work on Me

Outside the window, dazzling lights spilled into the dim room, casting shifting shadows over the man lying on the bed, his consciousness blurred. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol—rich and not entirely unpleasant. Wen Ling crouched at the bedside, arms wrapped around her knees, quietly watching the drunken man. His pale skin was tinged with a drunken flush, the usual defiance in his demeanor faded, and the wetness at the corners of his eyes made him seem suddenly fragile, almost pitiable.

Abruptly, Wen Ling leaned in close, moving slowly as she straddled his waist, her fingers reaching to undo the buttons of his shirt. She’d barely managed a few when a strong hand suddenly seized hers. Wen Ling’s heart raced as she looked up at him.

His eyes were glazed, as if shrouded in mist, unable to focus. He blinked long and slow before finally seeing clearly who it was astride him.

“Wen… Ling.” He called her name, each syllable thick with drunkenness.

Wen Ling answered softly, her voice guilty, turning away from his gaze.

“You’ve finally come to see me in my dreams…” His voice began to slur, every note steeped in grievance. “Three years. Why did it take you so long to come?”

“Zhou Yinhe, I…”

But before she could finish, Zhou Yinhe rolled her beneath him, his kiss violent as he bit down on her lips. Wen Ling cried out in pain, about to beg him to be gentle, when she heard him murmur, barely audible: “Heartless fool, I’ve missed you so much.”

Wen Ling could no longer bear to say anything more. She let him hold her, then slipped free to undo the rest of his buttons.

Their shadows intertwined on the wall, the arc of their bodies melding as one. Scattered pieces of clothing littered the floor, black shirt and black skirt entangled. The heavy scent of alcohol mingled with another, more intimate aroma, enough to make anyone blush.

Only when their bodies were pressed close did Zhou Yinhe sense something amiss. The sensation was both unfamiliar and yet hauntingly familiar—something that did not belong in a dream.

He lowered his gaze to the woman beneath him, cheeks flushed. His hands, braced on either side of her, clenched tightly, and the pain brought him back to himself.

Why had they stopped?

Wen Ling, confused, looked up at him, feeling the wild beat of his heart and the heat emanating from him. She assumed he needed a moment to recover from the alcohol, so she wrapped her slender arms around his neck and rolled them over.

He had indeed drunk too much. The intoxication clouded Zhou Yinhe’s mind, burning away the last of his reason as he let himself be pulled into the depths.

The passion gradually ebbed, and Wen Ling lay draped over the edge of the bed, catching her breath. Behind her, Zhou Yinhe recoiled as if he’d seen some monstrous beast.

“Wen… Ling.” He called her name, each word sharp and severe.

Wen Ling, dazed, turned back toward him, her gaze meeting eyes now blazing with anger, the last traces of warmth gone. She shuddered uncontrollably.

“When did you come back? Why am I here?” he demanded.

Wen Ling snapped back to herself, biting her lip as she crawled up, pulling the quilt over her, half her face hidden beneath it as she stammered, “I came back yesterday. I… I had someone bring you here.”

Fragmented memories returned to Zhou Yinhe, and he let out a cold laugh, raking a hand through his disheveled hair. His voice was laced with sarcasm. “So those bodyguards were yours. What, you haven’t had a man these past three years? Had to come back and find your ex to do this?”

The flush drained from Wen Ling’s face, leaving her pale. She stumbled over her words, desperate to explain, “It’s not like that. I—I regret it. I was afraid you wouldn’t want to see me, so I…”

Zhou Yinhe let out a chilly snort, his chest heaving with suppressed anger, teeth gritted. “Miss Wen really has some nerve. You dump someone, then come back, say you regret it and expect him to come and go at your whim?”

“It’s not—please, just listen to me. It’s really not what you think. Back then, I…” She moved closer, trying to take his hand, but just as she began to speak, a stabbing pain surged through her head, sharp as a thousand needles, and she collapsed onto the bed, breaking out in a cold sweat.

Zhou Yinhe assumed she was feigning distress and, pursing his lips, picked up his clothes and dressed. His voice was cold: “Enough with the act. I’m not falling for it anymore.”

Before they were together, Wen Ling often pretended to be pitiful or unwell to soften him, step by step winning him over. And once he was completely under her spell, she had coldly tossed him aside despite his pleas.

Wen Ling pressed her fingers to her temples, forcing herself upright and shaking her head, but before she could say more, she saw Zhou Yinhe stride out of the room.

When the door slammed shut behind him, Wen Ling fell back onto the bed, drained. The stabbing pain in her head vanished now that she wasn’t trying to speak. She stared blankly up at the ornate chandelier overhead.

So she couldn’t tell Zhou Yinhe, but why was she able to tell Lu Zhaoye? Was it simply because Zhou Yinhe was the male lead of the story? Wen Ling sighed, her brow furrowed. To think she was the male lead’s first love, the villainous ex-girlfriend, only awakened after dying once—what a pitiful fate.

Suddenly, her phone rang, the sound jarringly loud in the quiet room. Startled, Wen Ling grabbed her phone off the floor, wrapped a robe around herself, and answered.

The voice on the other end was languid and careless, almost mischievous. “Well? Did you tell him?”

Wen Ling’s lips trembled, her mouth pulling down in a pout as tears streamed uncontrollably down her cheeks. She choked out, “I had someone bring him over. He said I only came to him because I had no one else, that I think I can summon him at will. I wanted to tell him the truth, but the moment I started, my head felt like it was being stabbed with needles.”

The man laughed openly, only stifling his amusement when he sensed Wen Ling’s impending annoyance. Lazily, he said, “I told you to take it slow, but you wouldn’t listen. You had to try, and even went after him when he was drunk. Even if you managed to say it, he’d just think you were trying to win him back with another lie.”

Wen Ling fell silent for a moment, collecting herself before responding, as much for herself as for the man on the phone. “Forget it, it’s fine. Sooner or later, I’ll win him back.”

The man encouraged her, “Good luck, then.”

Wen Ling replied with a crisp “Mm!”

“So, if you can’t tell him, what’s your next move?” he asked.

Wen Ling thought for a moment, but couldn’t come up with an answer, so she said casually, “I’ll just get him back first. Right now, the most important thing is to expose that scheming female lead’s true colors!”

At that moment, there was a knock at the door.

Wen Ling hung up and went to the entryway. It was the bodyguard she’d sent outside earlier.

“Miss, we should leave soon.”

Noticing the bruise on his face, Wen Ling frowned. “What happened to your face?”

The bodyguard ducked his head awkwardly, explaining, “Just now, Lord Zhou’s bodyguards came after us. We barely held them off.”

Back in Country M, Wen Ling had already looked into it: Zhou Yinhe was now only accompanied by two bodyguards. She had six on her side.