Chapter Four: What Kind of Monster Is This?

Who could have expected that Ouyang Junyan would follow her in?
“What are you doing in here with me?” Unless Ouyang Junyan had been drinking—which was rare—he and his wife almost always slept in separate rooms.
Fang Zhiyin struggled to sit up, but Ouyang Junyan gently pressed her back down with a soft voice, “Wife, whatever you want to do, just tell me.”
“I… I want to get up.” Fang Zhiyin thought to herself, if she kept lying there, who knew if Ouyang Junyan might just sprawl out beside her.
Ouyang Junyan said tenderly, “Let me help you up.”
What on earth…?!
Fang Zhiyin surrendered, “You don’t have to be so polite!”
“A husband carrying his wife out of bed is only natural!”
“You… you’ve never carried me like this before. What if you drop me?” She was so flustered that her words tumbled out incoherently.
Ouyang Junyan, supremely confident, smiled and scooped her up from the bed in a princess carry, effortlessly descending the stairs.
He even said, “Wife, you’re so light! I could carry five of you!”
Fang Zhiyin: ?
In the middle of the night, they ate cake and all sorts of snacks—everything prepared by Ouyang Junyan.
In the end, Fang Zhiyin suggested they drink some wine. She was just testing her luck, unsure if Ouyang Junyan could handle his liquor… But after less than half a glass, Ouyang Junyan’s cheeks flushed, he tilted his head, and promptly fell asleep.
Fang Zhiyin breathed a sigh of relief. Her mind was a muddled mess from exhaustion, but she resolved to tie him up and drag him to the hospital the next day.
…
…
When Fang Zhiyin woke, it was already noon. She immediately heard her phone vibrating several times—it was all messages from her assistant.
Though she was a wealthy heiress, Fang Zhiyin was ambitious. Of course, compared to Ouyang Junyan, whose devotion to his career bordered on obsession, her investment in a small publishing house was hardly a grand accomplishment. Still, she was the boss of a publishing company!
In the past five years, the print industry had become a sunset business, with many magazines and publishers announcing bankruptcy. Fang Zhiyin was a sentimental soul… As a child, she loved writing and had once dreamed of becoming an acclaimed novelist.
She’d never actually written a single novel.
But her family had money! Her parents didn’t care what she did, as long as she was happy. So, even when investors and businesspeople avoided the publishing industry like the plague, she threw herself into it with reckless abandon, publishing magazines and books, barely managing to support a handful of young writers who still persisted in their craft.
Now, with the book market in dire straits, Fang Zhiyin would sometimes personally review manuscripts. If she saw a work with potential, she’d reach out to the author herself, whether they were famous or just starting out—her sole aim was to sign them to her company.
Of course, even her personal efforts often vanished without a trace.
But every reply she received filled her with joy, and she’d eagerly maintain contact.
Later, when negotiations progressed, she’d arrange to meet the writer at the office or in a café.

Once, she’d spent half a year courting a single author, only to have them poached by another company, where they quickly became a bestselling writer.
Though she always felt regret when she thought of it, that was the reality!
But for every author she did sign, she poured her heart into packaging their image, raising their profile, and negotiating all sorts of rights deals.
She did everything herself, never cutting corners.
Others would say, “It’s great to be rich! You can work just for love…”—never knowing how much effort she poured in behind the scenes.
Replying to messages, Fang Zhiyin went to look for Ouyang Junyan, not forgetting her plan to tie him up and take him to the hospital.
But when she pushed open the door, she was greeted by the sight of a six-foot-one shirtless man lying on his side on the bed, one hand resting on the mattress, his muscles taut and alluring, while the other hand was provocatively slapping his own rear? He looked at her with a face full of sultry mischief.
Fang Zhiyin’s phone slipped from her hand.
Ouyang Junyan, how far gone do you have to be to drive yourself to this state of madness…
In that moment, Fang Zhiyin had the urge to claw out her own eyes!
This was nothing like the abstinent idol she’d loved for so many years (who had later become her husband)—this was just one of the personalities split off from his body!
And yet, she still found herself drawn to him.
Who could have predicted that Ouyang Junyan would reach out and pull her onto the bed, causing her to stumble into his strong arms.
Ouyang Junyan, did you know you could be… this outrageous?
“Wife, why didn’t you sleep with me last night?” Ouyang Junyan pouted, aggrieved, “You left me tossing and turning all night.”
Heavens, just put me out of my misery!
“You…”
“Shh!” Ouyang Junyan pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her. With the other hand, he picked up a plate holding a soft-cooked fried egg. He pierced it gently, and the golden yolk oozed out.
Fang Zhiyin’s mouth went dry at the sight. “What are you doing?”
Ouyang Junyan took a bite of the yolk and leaned over, “Feeding you…”
Dear God! Just kill me now! Fang Zhiyin closed her eyes and prayed for deliverance.
She tried to turn her head away from Ouyang Junyan, but with a mouthful of golden yolk, he leaned in for a kiss anyway.
It was an ardent kiss, one unlike any she had ever known.
Fang Zhiyin was left dizzy and flushed, her heart pounding. Within seconds, Ouyang Junyan’s breathing grew rapid and ragged.
Alarmed, Fang Zhiyin tried to push him away, but her arms felt weak… and she was reluctant.
Suddenly, the panting man’s body tensed, frozen in place.

A few seconds later, Ouyang Junyan sprang away from her like a coiled spring!
One moment he was all tenderness and longing, the next he was cold and distant. His deep gaze turned sharp and clear, the desire on his face vanishing without a trace.
He scanned the room warily, realizing he was at home, but with a distinct sense that something was very wrong…
“Why am I half-naked?” he asked awkwardly. “Did you undress me?”
Fang Zhiyin nearly coughed up blood. “You undressed yourself!”
Ouyang Junyan pressed his lips together for a long moment before finding his clothes in the wardrobe. Fang Zhiyin watched as he closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and buttoned up his shirt with deliberate care.
Just recalling the scene from moments before made Fang Zhiyin wish she could lose her memory entirely.
With the last button fastened,
Ouyang Junyan finally asked in a cool tone, “What just happened? Last night… I was drunk, wasn’t I?”
Calm, restrained, ascetic—his demeanor was as placid as a black lake, unreadable.
Fang Zhiyin was shocked. “You’re back?”
Ouyang Junyan strode over, confusion written across his face.
“Do you remember me asking you for a divorce?” Fang Zhiyin blurted out anxiously. In this situation, only her real husband would remember that!
“Mm…”
As expected! This was her real husband!
Fang Zhiyin was at a loss for a moment. “So… do you remember what happened these past two days?”
“Two days?” Ouyang Junyan was clearly stunned. He immediately checked his phone, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper. “Why can’t I remember anything?”
For some reason, Fang Zhiyin suddenly felt sorry for him. After a long hesitation, she ventured, “Um… don’t go to the office today. Come with me to the hospital. I think you might be ill.”
…
Ouyang Junyan wasn’t the sort to avoid seeing a doctor. He accompanied Fang Zhiyin to the best psychiatric department in Jiangcheng and underwent two hours of meticulous examinations.
The battery of tests was enough to make anyone feel suffocated.
Anyone else would have lost their patience long ago, but Ouyang Junyan was exceptionally calm and composed, enduring every procedure without a change in his expression.