Su Ran’s head slammed against the door.
The impact was cold and hard, jolting her so sharply that her teeth ached. Pain drilled into the back of her skull like a nail driven through bone.
She snapped awake instantly.
A man stood before her.
Tall and lean, yet his frame held up the white dress shirt stretched over him. His sleeves were rolled carelessly to his forearms, exposing taut veins and prominent knuckles. His head was lowered, messy black hair shadowing his eyes, leaving only the tense line of his jaw visible, the muscles twitching with restrained force.
He looked like a bowstring pulled to its limit, one that could snap at any second.
The room reeked of cheap liquor, harsh enough to sting the nose, mixed with the damp, rotten smell of everything in this cramped rental apartment slowly molding away together.
Su Ran’s back pressed tightly against the door as her heartbeat pounded wildly in her throat.
She knew this man.
Fu Yechuan.
The ultimate villain from a billionaire romance novel titled After Transmigrating as Cannon Fodder, Saved the Villain.
In the early chapters, he had fallen so low he was buried in the dust. Later, he clawed his way back up and overturned the entire business world with ruthless fury.
And she, Su Ran, had transmigrated into the role of the vicious supporting female who cheated him out of every last cent, stabbed him in the back at his lowest point, and was eventually crushed by him so completely that not even her bones remained intact.
Not “about to transmigrate.”
She was already here.
The timing was precise down to the second.
A check was still clutched tightly in her hand.
Five million.
The paper felt thin, the edges softened by the sweat in her palm. This was the final sum the original owner of this body had swindled from Fu Yechuan, money he had borrowed by sacrificing every shred of dignity and credit he still possessed.
In the original plot, she had held this very check and said to him:
“Fu Yechuan, you’re no longer worthy of me.”
Then she turned to leave. She never made it three steps.
He broke her leg. That was the opening note of her tragic ending.
Every page after that was written in blood.
Su Ran tore her gaze away from the check and looked at Fu Yechuan’s right hand hanging at his side.
His fingers were slowly curling inward, one by one, the joints whitening under the pressure.
Her mind raced as memories from the novel flooded over her.
Run?
The door was behind her, and he stood less than a step away. Fu Yechuan was already standing at the edge of a cliff. Any sudden movement could shove him completely over the brink.
Beg for mercy?
The original owner had tried that too. The novel described it clearly: what Fu Yechuan hated most was performance. The more someone cried and pleaded, the more disgusted he became, convinced they were trying to manipulate him.
She couldn’t run, and she couldn’t beg.
Then what could she do?
Her only advantage was that she had read this book.
She knew what would happen next. That was the only bargaining chip she had.
Su Ran forced herself to steady her breathing and think.
The check!
A detail she had overlooked suddenly surfaced from the depths of her memory.
This five million yuan check… was fake.
A bad check.
The novel had mentioned it before. This was a trap set by the true heroine, Bai Weiwei. She had calculated the original owner’s greed perfectly and used intermediaries to pass the worthless check into Fu Yechuan’s hands. The original owner would take the money and run, while Fu Yechuan, desperate to save his company, would try to cash it and trigger a disaster on the spot.
Commercial fraud.
Fu Yechuan would go to prison, while the original owner would shoulder all the blame.
And the Bai family would sit back and reap the rewards.
One check, two ruined lives.
Su Ran tightened her grip on the paper until her fingertips went numb.
She was trapped inside a deadlock. In front of her stood an unstable Fu Yechuan, behind her lurked the Bai family’s scheme. Forward meant death, backward meant death.
This was the exact point where the original owner had been crushed.
Fu Yechuan slowly lifted his head.
Su Ran met his eyes.
Bloodshot, dark circles heavy beneath them, his pupils deep and hollow like a dried-up well. What churned inside them was not anger, nor hatred.
It was disappointing.
The kind born after being let down over and over again until there was simply nothing left inside.
Far more terrifying than rage.
“Su Ran.” He finally spoke.
His voice was hoarse, as though he had not drunk water in days, or perhaps had called out too many times without anyone ever answering.
“You’re leaving too?”
Only three words.
But the word “too” carried the heaviest weight.
Sweat drenched Su Ran’s palms, making the check slippery and damp in her grasp.
She knew this was her only chance to make a move.
One wrong choice, and the original plot would resume exactly as written: broken legs, becoming the scapegoat, dying without a corpse left behind.
Her gaze dropped to the check in her hand.
This piece of paper had bought the original owner a road to ruin. It was the final straw crushing Fu Yechuan, and the noose tightening around her own neck.
It couldn’t stay. Not for even one more second.
Under Fu Yechuan’s watchful gaze, Su Ran slowly raised her hand.
Very slowly.
She lifted the five million yuan check high enough for both of them to see clearly, then brought it to her mouth and bit down on the edge.
And tore.
Riiip!
The sound sliced sharply through the dead silence of the room like a snapping bone.
Fu Yechuan’s pupils contracted violently.
Every expression on his face froze at once. The disappointment stopped. The madness stopped. Even his breathing seemed to halt.
He had imagined countless possibilities.
He thought she would cry, scream, curse him for being poor, or walk away without looking back.
He had prepared himself for every outcome, except this one.
Su Ran didn’t stop.
She tore the check in half, then into quarters, then into tiny scraps. Her fingernails scraped across the paper as she shredded it completely.
Then she released her grip.
The pieces fluttered down through her fingers onto the floor between them and onto the tops of his shoes.
Su Ran raised her eyes.
“You think five million is enough to get rid of me?”
Her voice was less steady than she wanted. The final syllables trembled slightly, but she did not pull back.
“Fu Yechuan, you really underestimate me.”
She was gambling. Gambling on an identity completely opposite to the original owner’s.
The original owner had been a gold digger who ran the moment she got money. So Su Ran would become a woman insulted by the idea that “a mere five million” could buy her off.
The opposite of greed was not pride.
It was ambition on a far greater scale.
She was betting that Fu Yechuan would understand that meaning.
Fu Yechuan didn’t move. He stared at her.
From her eyes to her lips, from her lips to her now empty fingers, then down to the scraps of paper scattered across the floor.
He was searching for flaws.
“What do you mean?”
It wasn’t a question. It was an interrogation.
Su Ran knew she had passed the first test.
She pushed herself away from the door and stepped forward. Her heels clicked sharply against the floor.
Click!
Another step.
Click!
She walked toward him.
It was a dangerous move. The closer she got, the more dangerous he became, but she couldn’t retreat. One step back would drag her straight into the original owner’s script: weakness, escape, capture.
She had to walk an entirely different path.
The novel had once said that Fu Yechuan did not become that monstrous villain because of hatred, but because he had once loved too deeply.
Only someone who loved to the extreme could hate to the extreme.
And right now, he has not reached that point yet.
Right now, he was still waiting. Waiting for someone who would stay.
Su Ran stopped in front of him.
Too close! Close enough to smell the alcohol clinging to his shirt, close enough to see the cracked skin near his throat.
“The Fu family has fallen. Your company will be torn apart by creditors next week. Everyone is waiting to watch you kneel.”
Every word she spoke was true.
Fu Yechuan’s jaw tightened harder, the muscles near his cheek flexing sharply.
“If I leave now too,” Su Ran said, staring directly into his eyes, “wouldn’t that be exactly what they want?”
His breathing changed.
Not calmer, more chaotic.
He stared at the face before him. The same features, the same peach blossom eyes, but something about them was different. Before, those eyes were always calculating, measuring everything by its price.
Now they were not.
Now they were still and heavy, as though they had already seen through something he himself had not yet realized.
“When did you become like this?” he asked.
It wasn’t an accusation, It was confusion.
Su Ran did not answer.
She couldn’t. She needed to drag the conversation onto her own battlefield.
“That check is a trap.”
Six words fell like stones.
Fu Yechuan’s body stiffened.
“It’s a bad check,” Su Ran said slowly, emphasizing every syllable. “There isn’t a single cent in the issuer’s account. The moment you try to cash it, the bank will reject it. If you use it to negotiate business deals, it becomes fraud. Criminal fraud.”
Fu Yechuan stopped breathing for a full two seconds.
“The Bai family arranged it,” Su Ran continued. “It passed through two intermediaries, so on the surface it looks unrelated to them. But the source is Bai Weiwei.”
The moment she spoke that name, Fu Yechuan’s gaze changed.
No longer scrutiny, no longer shocked.
But alertness, the sharp instinct of a predator suddenly catching a scent that did not belong in its territory.
“How do you know this?”
His voice was dangerously low. Su Ran had been waiting for exactly that question.
“Do you want to turn this around?”
Instead of answering, she threw the question back at him.
Her chin lifted slightly, not in provocation, but in declaration.
She wanted him to see that she possessed something he desperately needed.
“Do you want the Bai family to spit back out everything they swallowed?”
Fu Yechuan said nothing.
He stared at her intensely, as though trying to see through her completely, trying to determine whether she truly knew something or was simply bluffing.
Su Ran endured the pressure of his gaze.
Her legs were trembling. The muscles in her calves twitched uncontrollably, and her heels felt unstable beneath her feet. But none of it showed on her face.
This was the only thing she could do.
Stand here!
Not retreat, not panic and let him decide for himself whether she was worth trusting.
The silence stretched on.
So long that Su Ran felt her heartbeat climbing into her throat.
“Even if what you’re saying is true,” Fu Yechuan finally said, his voice dry and rough, “I have nothing left.”
He didn’t say, “I believe you.”
But he asked about the next step.
That was enough.
Su Ran’s eyes swept casually across the room. The apartment was tiny and run-down, but an open jewelry box sat on the vanity.
Empty!
Only an indentation remained in the velvet lining, shaped like a necklace.
It was the diamond necklace Fu Yechuan had once gifted the original owner. Three carats, custom-made by a luxury brand. Three days ago, she had pawned it for one hundred and eighty thousand yuan, hiding the cash away in her bank account before planning to run.
One hundred and eighty thousand.
Not much, but enough for the first step.
“Come with me,” Su Ran said as she turned toward the door.
She offered no explanation, no buildup, not even enough time for him to hesitate.
This was another thing she had learned from the novel. The more you explained things to Fu Yechuan, the more suspicious he became. If you simply walked forward, he would decide for himself whether following was worth it.
Her fingers touched the doorknob.
Cold metal, rough with rust.
She didn’t look back, but she could feel his gaze behind her, heavy, scorching, filled with enormous uncertainty.
No footsteps followed.
Her heart sank slightly. Just as she was about to twist the knob—
A hand shot out from behind her.
Strong fingers clamped around her wrist with crushing force, squeezing so hard it felt as though her bones might crack.
Su Ran was forced to stop.
Fu Yechuan’s breath brushed past her ear, carrying the scent of alcohol and warmth.
He was standing far too close. Close enough for her to feel the rise and fall of his chest.
“Su Ran.”
He spoke her name in a low voice that sounded dragged out from deep inside his chest.
“What exactly are you playing at?”
Her wrist throbbed under his grip, her fingertips already beginning to go numb.
She didn’t struggle. She didn’t even turn around.
“Believe me or not, verify it yourself,” she replied calmly, far calmer than she actually felt. “The issuing bank for that check is Nancheng Commercial Bank, Xingyuan Branch. The account name is ‘Ruihe Trading.’ One phone call is enough to check the balance.”
She paused. “If I’m lying, it won’t be too late to deal with me afterward.”
The grip around her wrist did not loosen.
But it did not tighten further either.