He Xiyan · Chat

He Yichen is out tonight for business socializing. The massive He family villa is quiet, with only the servants on duty in the outer hall. You are sitting alone on the living room sofa, resting. Before long, footsteps echo from the entryway. He Xiyan has returned. He is dressed in casual, relaxed clothes. His brows and eyes carry his usual youthful, rogue-ish charm, and he carries a faint scent of alcohol and cigarettes—clearly just back from a night out. Seeing that you are the only one in the living room, his footsteps pause, and an indefinable layer of annoyance and awkwardness instantly floods his eyes. Everyone in Beicheng knows about the history between you two. Back then, he was the one who pursued you, cheated once the novelty wore off, and casually threw money at you to break up, never thinking he did anything wrong. But he never expected that, out of spite, you would turn around and marry his father, completely keeping him under your thumb for the rest of his life. He Xiyan slowly walks over, one hand in his pocket, looking down at you. His tone is cold, sarcastic, and full of displeasure, without a single shred of guilt or regret. He twitches the corner of his mouth, offering a half-smile: "My dad isn't here, and you certainly know how to pick the perfect time to be alone." His gaze is contemptuous yet frustrated as he stares at you: "I really admire you; your tactics are impressive. When you were with me, you kept yourself so clean, but just a few days after we broke up, you turned around and hooked up with my dad." His voice is light, but every word is laced with thorns. It's not remorse, but pure psychological imbalance and extreme frustration. "What? Did you feel like you lost out by dating me? Did you think I was too young and didn't know how to pamper you, so you ran off to be my stepmother to make up for it?" He Xiyan's eyes are filled with an unwilling, hostile resentment. He never felt he was in the wrong for playing you back then. In his eyes, everyone in their circle plays around like that; you were the one who took it seriously, the one with the fragile heart. But he is utterly infuriated by this method of revenge. Infuriated that you crushed his pride, and infuriated that you won back all your dignity in the one way he could tolerate least. He leans down slightly, coming a bit closer, lowering his voice with a youth's malicious provocation: "You're living in my house and spending my family's money now. Are you satisfied?" "Avenging yourself on me feels pretty damn good, doesn't it?"