The next morning, warm sunlight streamed through the gaps in the curtains, casting golden beams across the gray carpet. It should have been a peaceful start to the day—but the sharp sound of something crashing to the floor shattered the quiet.
Su Yue stirred with a sleepy frown. She’d tossed and turned on the sofa half the night before finally falling asleep. No matter how soft the cushions were, a sofa simply couldn’t contain her comfortably—not with the size she’d become. Sleeping there was torture.
A muffled noise came again from the direction of the bathroom. Su Yue squinted toward the bed. Jiang Ci wasn’t there—he was clearly in the bathroom.
She closed her eyes, intending to ignore it.
But the clattering grew louder.
Frowning, Su Yue sighed, sat up groggily, slid her feet into her slippers, and trudged toward the bathroom.
“Jiang Ci, what are you—ah!” Her voice caught as she entered. “You’re bleeding!”
Jiang Ci stood tall and grim in front of the sink, dressed in his usual black pajamas. But his face was pale, and a line of blood trailed from a fresh wound on his right cheek.
Su Yue’s sleepiness vanished in an instant. She rushed to his side, her eyes wide with worry. “How did this happen? Come out—I’ll treat it right away.” She didn’t know how bad it was yet, but she was already worrying whether it would leave a scar.
She kicked aside the iron shelf that had collapsed at her feet, bottles and jars scattered across the floor. Reaching out to guide Jiang Ci out, her hand suddenly paused. A memory surfaced—the last time someone had touched Jiang Ci without permission, He Xiaoqin had ended up crying and begging for mercy. It had been chaos.
Su Yue hesitated, then instead reached for the hem of his pajama top. “Let’s go.”
The living room was quiet and the tension between them even more pronounced in the silence.
Su Yue leaned in to inspect the wound. The scratch ran about the length of a finger across his right cheek. Thankfully, it wasn’t too deep—just the surface skin had been broken. It must’ve been the iron shelf that had fallen and caught him.
“Your left face is already ruined—are you trying to match it on the right side now?” she muttered softly. “Not that I’m afraid of you being ugly or anything…”
Jiang Ci was now seated on the bed, Su Yue crouching close to examine him. The familiar, faint scent of milk clung to her, teasing his senses. His eyelids lifted lazily, expression unreadable. “I can’t see it anyway.”
Ugly or not, it made no difference to a man who couldn’t even see his own reflection.
Su Yue’s hand froze. She looked at him, silent.
She took a deep breath and gently dabbed a cotton swab against the bleeding skin, then dipped it in disinfectant.
“Does it hurt?”
The muscles on Jiang Ci’s face twitched.
Su Yue softened her movements and gently blew on the wound, trying to soothe the sting.
That unexpected warmth against his skin made Jiang Ci’s face tighten.
His pale complexion, already marred on one side, now bore another blemish. He looked miserable—enough that Su Yue’s heart softened and her movements grew even more delicate.
“Are you sure you know how to apply medicine?” Jiang Ci sneered at her efforts.
Su Yue shot him a glare. This man really had the nerve to mock her now?
Still, she met his dark, unfocused eyes and quickly looked away. She tore off a hemostatic bandaid and carefully placed it over the wound.
Now he had one scarred cheek and one covered with an ugly cartoonish sticker. Honestly… it didn’t make for a pretty picture.
“You could’ve asked me for help,” she muttered. “I’m not heartless. If you’d called for me, I would’ve helped.”
Jiang Ci turned his head. Her scent was closer now—light and sweet like warm milk. It teased his nose again, stubborn and soft.
“I called you ten times,” he said flatly. “You snored through all of them.”
Su Yue’s face flushed crimson. “You liar! I don’t snore!”
But even as she protested, the thought struck her—this wasn’t her original body. And fat people… well, they were more likely to snore, weren’t they?
Even if Jiang Ci couldn’t see her, she felt like her face was burning up.
She had to lose weight.
“I didn’t fall asleep until very late. I was exhausted,” she explained, then glanced over at the big bed and grumbled, “Jiang Ci, I want to sleep in the bed. The sofa’s too small—it’s ruining my sleep.”
Before, the mattresses she’d slept on were luxury-grade, and even when filming on location, the hotels had been five-star. Now, she was stuck with a narrow sofa that dug into her back all night.
This villa only had two rooms—Jiang Ci’s, and the child Jiang Haoyan’s. The original owner had hated Jiang Ci so much that since marrying him, they had never once shared a bed.
And in winter? She remembered the original owner shivering on the sofa while a warm bed sat empty. Foolish.
“You want to sleep in my bed?” Jiang Ci’s fingers brushed the edge of the hemostatic patch. He raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
Su Yue’s face turned red again. “We’re husband and wife. That bed is half mine!”
Jiang Ci gave a low scoff. “Sleep if you want. But if you disturb me, I’ll throw you off it.”
“I won’t! I sleep like a rock,” she mumbled, then remembered his earlier comment. Her cheeks flamed again. “And if you’re worried, we can draw a line—left side for Chu, right side for Han!”
Jiang Ci gave a noncommittal grunt and said nothing more.
Soon after, the young maid brought in breakfast.
She entered nervously, holding a food box with trembling hands. “Young Master Jiang Ci, Young Madam… breakfast is here.”
“Put it on the table.”
Su Yue watched the girl lower her head almost to the floor, hands shaking. Another person terrified of Jiang Ci.
Over the past few days, Su Yue had come to understand when Jiang Ci was genuinely angry, and when he was just being cold. Once she figured him out, most of her fear had faded. She wasn’t nearly as scared as she’d been at the beginning.
At that moment, Jiang Haoyan toddled into the room, struggling to carry a plump cat in his arms. The little boy staggered to Jiang Ci, craned his neck, and greeted him with bright eyes, “Daddy, good morning!”
“Mm.” Jiang Ci nodded in acknowledgment.
“Daddy, what happened to your face?” The little boy’s milky voice trembled with concern when he saw the bandaid . He’d used one before on a scraped finger and knew it meant pain.
“Just a scratch,” Jiang Ci said indifferently.
“Daddy’s hurt? Haohao will give you a ‘huhu’ to make it better.” The child tiptoed, trying to reach his father’s cheek.
“No need. Eat your breakfast.” Jiang Ci’s frame, even seated, was too tall for the little one to reach.
Jiang Haoyan pouted but obeyed, climbing into his little seat. “Okay.”
Su Yue handed him a bowl of corn porridge. “Good morning, Xiao Haohao.”
The child glanced at his father’s blank face, then back at Su Yue. His pout deepened, but he still replied softly, “Morning.”
Su Yue placed another bowl of porridge before Jiang Ci.
The warm scent of steamed corn lingered in the air. Jiang Ci frowned. “Where’s my cake?”
“What cake?” Su Yue blinked. Who eats cake for breakfast?
“Mango cake. Dad likes it best,” Jiang Haoyan piped up, solemn-faced. “Haohao likes it too.”
The maid froze. She turned pale, realizing she had forgotten to bring it.
“M-Master Jiang Ci, I—I forgot. I’ll get it right now!” she stammered. The housekeeper had told her yesterday to include the cake, but in her nervousness, she’d left it out.
Jiang Ci’s lips curved into a cold smile. “You forgot? Why not forget to bring your head next time?”
The girl turned white. “Master Jiang Ci, I’m sorry! I’ll go get it now, I promise—!”
“Go explain to the housekeeper, then pack up and leave.” His tone was calm, but merciless.
“Master, please… don’t fire me, it was just one mistake…” The girl looked greif stricken. Jiang’s household paid well—twice what regular white-collar workers made. Losing this job was unthinkable.
“You’re noisy. Get out.” Jiang Ci’s brows furrowed in irritation.
The maid bit her lip, but dared not plead further. Shoulders hunched, she backed out of the room.
“You fired her just for forgetting a cake?” Su Yue asked quietly.
“If you make a mistake, you bear the consequences.” Jiang Ci stirred his porridge with thinly veiled distaste. “She admitted it. What—do you feel sorry for her?”
“She forgot to bring Dad’s favorite cake,” Jiang Haoyan added seriously, clearly upset on his father’s behalf.
Su Yue had no words to reply.
Upstairs in the villa, the master bedroom had the best view of all. Sunlight spilled through the tall windows, bathing the room in a golden glow.
“You don’t want me to leave?” Jiang Muhang’s voice was soft, amused, as he caught the dazed look on his wife’s face.
Jiang Xuan blinked back to her senses, cheeks pink. “No,” she whispered.
Rising on tiptoe, she gently fixed his tie and said in a low voice, “Your birthday’s next month. I’m thinking about what gift to give you.”
Jiang Muhang’s lips curled into a lazy smile. “Then I’ll wait for your surprise.”
After he left, Jiang Xuan stepped onto the small balcony. From here, she could clearly see the small western-style house in the back garden.
That was where her husband had lived in her previous life.
The once-blooming back garden was now barren, the scent of damp earth thick in the air. And like that earthy scent, memories of her past life stirred in her chest—muddy and unpleasant.
She clenched the railing.
She hated it.