Jiang Wenzhe quickly glanced around. Aside from the faint, almost imperceptible scent of meat, everything in the house seemed normal.
However, “seeming” didn’t mean “not there,” and the seed of suspicion was planted.
With more pressing matters at hand, Jiang Wenzhe had no choice but to temporarily set aside his doubts and got back into the car.
Jiang Wenzhe sat in the rear driver’s seat of the car; the partition screen was raised, completely separating the front and rear compartments. He crossed his long legs, resting his laptop on his lap, and with one hand handled work documents while the other swiped open his phone to dial a number.
“Mr. Jiang, how may I assist you?” His personal assistant, Jiang Xiao, answered the call promptly and respectfully.
“Please contact the property management and retrieve the surveillance footage from the past three days near my home. Check to see if anyone has climbed over the fence into my property recently.” Jiang Wenzhe raised his hand to press against the bridge of his nose, trying to quell his irritation.
Jiang Xiao asked tentatively, “Mr. Jiang, has there been a break-in at your home?”
“I haven’t taken count of my belongings yet, so I’m not sure,” Jiang Wenzhe said. “Also, please contact the security technician and make sure surveillance cameras are installed in every room of my home—leave no blind spots.”
He was a man who valued his privacy to an extreme degree—so much so that he didn’t hire any live-in housekeepers or even part-time help; he handled everything himself.
Obsessive about cleanliness, rarely smiling, emotionally detached, highly private, a perfectionist. . . These traits collectively define the Jiang Wenzhe of today.
The mere thought that someone might have climbed into his home without his knowledge—touched his belongings, or even cooked a meal in his own kitchen—sent a surge of rage coursing through Jiang Wenzhe, leaving him seething with anger.
“Okay, I’ll take care of it right away.” Jiang Xiao could clearly sense the irritation underlying his boss’s words and lowered his voice even further.
*
Meanwhile, at the villa.
Lin Sangyu had just seen Jiang Wenzhe off. She’d been crouching under the sofa for a while, and just as she was about to climb onto the coffee table, a sudden noise from outside the door startled her, causing her to jerk her head back.
No way—they’re back.
This time, Lin Sangyu was genuinely scared. She hid obediently under the sofa, not daring to move a muscle.
Naturally, she didn’t see the security technician installing the surveillance camera.
Nor did she know that everything she was about to do would be transmitted clearly and in real time to the man who was currently propping his head up with one hand, his gaze as deep as an abyss.
On the surveillance feed, Jiang Wenze clearly saw a snow-white sugar glider slowly poking its head out from under the sofa. After looking around to make sure there was no danger, it continued crawling forward.
Quite cautious, actually.
Jiang Wenze zoomed in on the surveillance feed, and now he could see this uninvited “parasite” in full detail.
Although this sugar glider’s fur was pure white, its claws and the tips of its ears were a pale pink, resembling a spring begonia—white petals with pink tips. Its two jet-black eyes were large and slightly protruding, exuding endless cuteness.
Immediately afterward, Jiang Wenzhe watched as the little creature flapped its wing membranes, skimming the floor as it half-flew to the top of the stairs. Then, using both front and back legs, it began to climb the stairs—a task as difficult as scaling a mountain for her—hopping along. From Jiang Wenze’s “bird’s-eye view,” the scene looked utterly comical.
Sugar gliders don’t have true wings; their so-called ability to fly is more accurately described as gliding. They can only descend from high places to lower ones, and their movement is highly limited.
“Knock, knock, knock—” Yang Ning, the executive assistant, knocked on the door and approached. She was dressed in a sharp black suit, her hair neatly pulled back, exuding a sense of composure and competence.
“President Jiang, here are the materials for this afternoon’s meeting. Please take a look.”
Jiang Wenzhe snapped out of his surveillance feed and let out a faint “Mm” from deep within his chest: “Thank you for your hard work.”
It had only been a moment since he’d stepped away. By the time Jiang Wenzhe finished reviewing the materials and brought up the surveillance feed again, he saw that very same little creature now perched on the cup on his study desk, its head stretched out as it drank the water from his cup!
Jiang Wenzhe stared at the computer screen with a somber expression for a long time.
His first reaction, of course, was one of nausea, but after a while, a strange, eerie sensation welled up inside him—one that made him want to laugh out of sheer frustration.
It was a strange feeling—as if someone who thought they were facing a formidable enemy and walking on thin ice had donned full armor and braced for battle, only to discover that the so-called “formidable enemy” was nothing more than a kitten that could barely walk straight.
In other words, it was like punching a pillow: after all that effort, the pillow remained completely unscathed, while he’d worn himself out.
Meanwhile, the unsuspecting Lin Sangyu’s stomach growled again. She smacked her lips—it was lunchtime.
And just like that, she had clearly and unambiguously demonstrated to Jiang Wenze what it meant for an animal to become a spiritual creature.
Now Jiang Wenze suddenly realized where that faint, lingering scent of charred meat had come from that morning.
In a corner he didn’t know about, this parasite was eating the worms he’d worked so hard to raise, drinking his spotless water, and sleeping in his comfortable bed.
How many germs were on her paws? Could there be fleas in her fur? Would her urine smell of ammonia? Could she be carrying viruses and spreading them on my bed?
This was the last straw.
And so, Jiang Wenzhe held his rage in check until the end of his workday. As soon as he got home, following the surveillance footage’s lead, he headed straight to the bedroom balcony and yanked aside the pillow that had been covering it.
Lin Sangyu felt a chill run down her spine. Before she could even get a clear look at the man’s slightly contorted face, he had already seized her by the nape of her neck—the very spot that held her life in his grasp.
Jiang Wenzhe was never one to show mercy.
He casually opened the window and flung Lin Sangyu out as if she were trash.
He didn’t forget to add, “Come back again, and I’ll deep-fry you and eat you.”
However, by the time Jiang Wenzhe uttered those words, Lin Sangyu had already landed safely on the ground. His words, spoken from the third floor, naturally dissipated into the wind.
As shameless as Lin Sangyu was, how could she possibly run away from her sugar daddy?!
She shook her head, immediately got to her feet, and prepared to climb the Chinese scholar tree right next to the villa.
Once she reached the treetop, “Whoosh—” with a graceful dive, Lin Sangyu landed gracefully on the villa’s grounds once more.
Jiang Wenzhe stood to the side, coldly watching it all. With a forced smile, he grabbed Lin Sangyu by the back of the neck once more, this time flinging her even harder, sending her spinning 360 degrees through the air.
There was no helping it—kings don’t meet kings.
Knowing she was in the wrong, Lin Sangyu had no choice but to lay low for the time being, deciding to resume the battle tomorrow once the man had left.
As it turned out, for some reason, no matter where Lin Sangyu hid inside the villa, Jiang Wenze could always find her with pinpoint accuracy.
Lin Sangyu searched every inch of her body—there was no tracking device here?!
Is this some kind of joke?
This battle without gunfire lasted half a month and finally ended with Jiang Wenzhe backing down.
Later, he tried locking windows and doors—everything he could think of—to seal off the villa so there wasn’t a single opening to the outside.
But he’d overlooked the fact that he had to come and go every day. As soon as he opened the door even a crack, that little critter—as if it were possessed—would immediately glide down from the tree across the way, swoop over his head, and land with pinpoint accuracy.
Then, flapping its fluffy wing membranes, it would cling to Jiang Wenzhe’s pant leg and climb up. Once it reached his shoulder, it would rub its soft little head against his neck.
As it rubbed, it would chirp “cheep, cheep”—looking both pitiful and adorable.
Sometimes, Lin Sangyu would carefully pick a small wildflower from the villa’s garden, roll into the man’s palm, stand up, wave its two little pink paws, prick up its ears, and hop around.
As if to say: “Hey, take my flower, please.”
No matter how he tossed her away, this little creature would always flutter back to his side, her soft fur all ruffled, chirping sweetly.
He just couldn’t shake her off.
Over time, every bit of soft flesh on Jiang Wenzhe’s iron-fisted wrist had been nibbled into submission by her.
Oh well, so be it.
After all, based on Jiang Wenzhe’s observations, he’d determined that this sugar glider was already an adult.
In other words, she didn’t have long to live.
He had Jiang Xiao take the sugar glider to the veterinary clinic for deworming, a bath, and vaccinations. He also bought a supply of animal treats for sugar gliders and set up a little nest for her in the fourth-floor attic.
Next, it was time to take care of his own belongings. He double-locked the doors to the insect enclosure and his bedroom whenever he went out, and covered all his personal belongings with glass covers.
“I won’t kick you out anymore. You can stay,” Jiang Wenzhe said as he stroked Lin Sangyu’s round belly, which had a pouch. “So you’re a female after all. How thick-skinned can you be? No matter how many times I try to get rid of you, you just won’t leave.”
Lin Sangyu muttered to herself, I’m thick-skinned? Then what are you?
A masochist? I’ve treated you like this, and yet you’re still begging me to stay.
Hmph.
Oh well, Lin Sangyu stretched her back, exposing more of her belly so Jiang Wenzhe could rub it more easily. Since you bought me mealworms and cod sticks, I’ll let the little things slide.
And just like that, the two put their differences behind them and began adjusting to life together.
To Lin Sangyu, Jiang Wenze was like a wealthy playboy husband from the human world—he was rarely home, but whenever he returned, he showered her with more money than she could ever spend.
Jiang Wenze was generous and wealthy. Although he didn’t allow her into the insect room, the snacks he bought her tasted so much better than the bugs she simply fried herself. Plus, Jiang Wenzhe was handsome and had a great figure; the bathrobes or pajamas he wore at home were loose and baggy, offering Shu a feast for the eyes at any moment.
The only thing she had to do now was probably to fly over to greet him whenever Jiang Wenzhe came home. Although Jiang Wenzhe didn’t seem to fall for this at all—he’d often catch her with his hand one second, only to fling her away violently the next, avoiding her like the plague.
But strangely enough, one day Lin Sangyu decided she wasn’t going to keep throwing herself at him when he wasn’t interested, so she didn’t go to greet him. As a result, that day Jiang Wenzhe acted as if he’d swallowed a bitter pill, his face darkening with anger.
In the past, Lin Sangyu would usually stay until Jiang Wenzhe went to sleep before returning to her nest, but that day, Jiang Wenzhe yanked her so hard it hurt and tossed her straight back to her nest.
Moreover, when he fed her the next day, the portion of bugs was pitifully small—not to mention the little fruit she usually got after her meal.
What’s even stranger is that, even now, Jiang Wenzhe still keeps all the villa’s windows tightly locked. Before, it was to prevent her from sneaking in—but what about now?
Is it to trap herself inside the villa, unable to get out?
Lin Sangyu pondered this for a long time before finally reaching a conclusion:
Sure enough, human, you’re obsessed with flying squirrels too, aren’t you!
Can’t you live without me anymore?
All right, all right, actually, I never had any intention of looking for another home anyway.
If there were no distinction between humans and animals, and if Jiang Wenze could hear her inner thoughts, he might have killed Lin Sangyu with his own hands right then and there.
He felt that his entire motivation at this moment stemmed solely from a sense of responsibility.
Although he still wasn’t used to suddenly having a “spirited animal” other than himself in the house, as her owner, he would fulfill his duties to the best of his ability.
Just as every family with cats, dogs, or small children closes their doors and windows—it’s the most basic safety precaution.
It’s just a sense of responsibility—nothing more.
Jiang Wenzhe thought that if the little one behaved herself, he might show great mercy and keep her until he died—or until she rotted away.
But she doesn’t behave.
She lied to me.
The bitter winter was drawing to a close; temperatures were rising, the ice was cracking, and undercurrents were surging.
It was an ordinary morning. Lin Sangyu was sprawled across the dining table, quietly sharing breakfast with Jiang Wenzhe.
Yes, Jiang Wenze was eating breakfast at home.
One day, he happened to learn that sugar gliders are social animals and extremely clingy; if left alone for long periods, they might, at best, lose their fur and refuse to eat, and at worst, become depressed and self-harm.
He couldn’t bring himself to get a few more, so he settled for spending a little more time with her instead.
“You can’t eat that.”
Lin Sangyu had just climbed to the edge of Jiang Wenze’s plate, ready to sneak a bite of that bright green fruit, when Jiang Wenze pressed his index finger against her head, sending her flying back in an instant.
“Squeak, squeak.”
If force didn’t work, she’d try a softer approach. Lin Sangyu squeaked in a high-pitched voice, pressed her palms together, and bowed like a puppy begging for food.
Jiang Wenzhe snorted derisively, reached behind him, grabbed an empty bowl, and completely covered Lin Sangyu with it.
“It’s an avocado. You’ll die if you eat it.”
“Squeak, squeak, squeak!!!”
The world instantly plunged into darkness. Lin Sangyu immediately sat up halfway, straining like the primordial god Pangu splitting the heavens and earth, trying to flip the bowl over.
But just as she pried open a tiny crack, an even greater force pressed down—it was Jiang Wenze’s hand.
“Make another peep and I’ll fry you,” he snapped, growing impatient.
The very next second, Lin Sangyu stopped squeaking.
“You’re quite the smart one,” Jiang Wenze remarked objectively.
Lin Sangyu rolled her eyes inwardly. Just wait until you’re gone—then I’ll eat whatever I want.
Retribution will come; it’s just not time yet.
At 8:30, Jiang Wenzhe finished cleaning up the kitchen and immediately headed to the office.
Hiding in the shadows, Lin Sangyu kept a close eye on the fridge as Jiang Wenzhe opened and closed it—there was still that so-called avocado inside.
Never mind—you only live once, so I’ve got to eat it!
Of course, she couldn’t open the fridge in her sugar glider form, but she could in her human form.
Having enjoyed the good life for so long, Lin Sangyu had gradually let her guard down.
As soon as Jiang Wenzhe left, she eagerly shifted into her human form, opened the fridge with ease, grabbed the avocado, and took a big bite.
Wow, so oily, so greasy, so gross.
Spit, spit, spit—Lin Sangyu immediately spat it out.
Fortunately, her common sense hadn’t been completely overwhelmed; she made sure to spit it into the kitchen sink. A quick whirl in the garbage disposal and a flush of water left not a trace behind.
Her mouth still felt greasy, and that man wouldn’t be back for another half-day to brush her teeth for her—it was going to be such a long wait.
Lin Sangyu licked her lips, and an idea struck her.
“I’m a human now—what’s so hard about brushing my own teeth?”
No sooner said than done, she dashed upstairs as if on wings, clomping her way to Jiang Wenzhe’s bathroom, where her gaze immediately locked onto the toothbrush behind the glass cover.
It really does come naturally—even though she hadn’t brushed her teeth in so long, she picked it up right away.
Lin Sangyu was in high spirits, humming a tune as she brushed.
“Two tigers, two tigers, running fast, running fast…”
After brushing her teeth, Lin Sangyu immediately cleaned up the scene and made sure to close the door tightly before leaving the room.
She was convinced that everything was seamless and airtight.
A chill swept in once more, shattering the warmth of spring—a gloomy, damp cold.
A late-spring cold snap had arrived.
The chill seeped into the spacious office, forming a layer of frost.
The scene shifted to a man lounging lazily in his office chair, his arms crossed over his chest. With an inscrutable expression, he quietly watched the entire spectacle unfold.
Hah, what a liar.