Pain—
That was the only sensation Shang Wan could feel at the moment.
Tiny shards of glass were embedded in the flesh of her palm, the pain so intense that her hand—the very one that had just cut her own arm—trembled uncontrollably.
Shang Wan drew in a sharp breath, her vision darkening in waves. It took her a long moment to barely regain her composure.
While she couldn’t help but curse this damn plot drenched in two pounds of dog blood in her heart, she tossed away the broken glass in her hand.
A few seconds later, under Fu Chen’s bewildered gaze, Shang Wan used the lighter meant for lighting scented candles in the bathroom to set a thick bath towel ablaze.
The pristine white bath towel, piled by the door, quickly ignited into a small, flickering flame.
Aided by the bathroom’s humidity, the flame soon burned incompletely, transforming into thick smoke that seeped through the door crack.
The smoke alarm outside the door immediately let out a piercing, frantic beeping.
Shang Wan leaped into the bathtub.
The tub of cold water sent a shiver through her.
She turned to look at Fu Chen, about to tell him they just needed to endure a few more minutes, when he unexpectedly leaned in, pressing down on her.
A damp breath fell against Shang Wan’s neck.
Shang Wan froze.
During her acting career, due to work requirements, Shang Wan had been in close contact with many male actors.
Holding hands, embracing, even kissing—all were commonplace to her.
But someone like Fu Chen, drenched and pressing her down in the bathtub, biting her neck like a wild animal—this was Shang Wan’s first encounter.
Beside her neck, Fu Chen’s breathing grew heavier. Shang Wan pushed against him with all her might.
He didn’t budge.
Shang Wan: “…”
There was no helping it. As a female celebrity who had dieted excessively and severely lacked exercise, her strength was no match for a domineering male lead like Fu Chen.
Watching as Fu Chen’s rationality was slowly slipping away, on the verge of causing a human tragedy, Shang Wan gritted her teeth. With all her strength, she freed one hand and covered Fu Chen’s eyes.
The warmth and dampness of her touch enveloped Fu Chen’s eyes first, followed by the metallic scent of blood flooding his nostrils.
Fu Chen’s breathing halted.
It took him a while to realize that the momentary darkness was brought by Shang Nanzhi’s bleeding hand.
This realization awakened the last shred of Fu Chen’s rationality.
He stopped moving, like a robot that had finally lost power.
Thick smoke filled the entire bathroom.
Shang Wan covered her own and Fu Chen’s mouths and noses with a damp towel, letting the cold water in the bathtub submerge her body, bringing a bone-chilling cold.
Perhaps only a few minutes, or maybe longer—just as Shang Wan felt she was about to lose consciousness from the thick smoke—a thunderous banging suddenly erupted at the door.
Soon, a group of burly men broke in.
The moment they saw Fu Chen’s condition, they erupted with astonishing volume, rushing forward and shouting, “Mr. Fu, are you alright?!”
Shang Wan, the invisible person pinned beneath Fu Chen in the bathtub, let out a long sigh of relief and finally allowed herself to faint.
Shang Wan’s first night after book transmigration was far from restful.
The cuts on her palm, the gashes on her arm, the thick smoke she inhaled in the bathroom, and the forced soak in cold water for what felt like an eternity—all of it made her dream incessantly of her days as an extra, living in a dark, damp basement when she was twenty.
Shang Wan remembered clearly—it was also a cold, bleak winter like this. She caught a chill while filming a water scene and developed a high fever that very night.
The basement had no heating, and she was burning up with fever, her whole body weak. After dry-swallowing an ibuprofen, she could only wrap herself entirely in the blanket, her head splitting with pain as she listened to the rapid-fire beeping from her phone.
It was the crew staff recruiting in the group chat: “Need thirty extras, male or female, anyone interested sign up quickly.”
Shang Wan really wanted to reply with a message, but her hand felt as heavy as if weighed down by a scale weight, completely unable to lift.
When she woke up from sleep, the sky was still dark.
Shang Wan felt dazed, thinking she must have had a nightmare, until she felt the narrow, hard mattress beneath her and realized.
It wasn’t a dream.
The injury was real, the book transmigration was real.
Even—
Shang Wan licked her dry, peeling lips and sighed.
The fever was real too.
The wound on her arm hadn’t been treated yet, and it hurt badly.
Shang Wan thought her wound was probably infected, her immune system fighting desperately for her health, which was why her temperature had shot up so high.
She had to deal with it quickly.
With some difficulty, Shang Wan fumbled for the bedside lamp switch and turned on the light.
What met her eyes was a small maid’s room, simply furnished, with thick curtains covering the entire small window, not a sliver of light from outside coming through. There was neither water nor medicine on the bedside table.
Shang Wan struggled to roll out of bed, walked to the door by the light of the wall lamp, turned the lock, and tried to escape.
As expected, the door was locked.
…This ungrateful, dead male lead!
Where on earth had he brought her?
Shang Wan gritted her teeth and began searching the room for anything usable, deciding to disinfect the wound herself.
In the wardrobe were a few unopened packs of sanitary pads; the bedside table drawer only yielded a used blister pack of stomach medicine and a half-empty bottle of medical alcohol.
Better than nothing.
Shang Wan stared at the items in front of her for a long time, finally gritting her teeth and carefully spraying the half-bottle of medical alcohol onto a clean sanitary pad.
Then, she gently pressed the pad onto the wound.
“Hiss—”
The moment the alcohol touched her skin, Shang Wan felt as if hundreds of tiny ants were swarming her wound, both painful and itchy, instantly dispelling the drowsiness from just crawling out of bed.
While cursing and complaining about the plot, she asked the System, “What’s Fu Chen’s current Bond Points?”
System: “Host, hello. The male lead’s current Bond Points are 7.”
This was the first good news since waking up. Shang Wan’s brows relaxed, finally showing a hint of a smile.
She continued to grimace and endure the pain from the alcohol disinfection, just thinking about how to expand her gains, when she suddenly heard the System continuously broadcasting in her mind: “The male lead’s Bond Points are continuously rising.
“7.2
“7.5
“The male lead’s current Bond Points have increased to 7.8.”
Shang Wan: “?”
She couldn’t help but ask, “Is the male lead having a fit?”
System: “…No.”
“Something’s off,” Shang Wan smacked her lips, unable to resist a bold thought, “Is Fu Chen spying on me right now?!”
In the book “Star Path,” the male lead Fu Chen was a character with a rather sinister, ghostly vibe.
After realizing his special feelings for the female lead, Fu Chen began to press forward step by step.
He had his assistant investigate the female lead’s life and preferences thoroughly and without gaps, then pretended to “coincidentally” meet her in various places.
He had subtly and gradually encroached upon the female lead’s personal space.
Even during her brief period of blindness, under the guise of protection, he installed surveillance in her home, connected a tracker to her phone, and forbade her from leaving his sight for twenty-four hours a day.
Undoubtedly, Fu Chen possessed an astonishing need for control.
While reading the novel, Shang Wan had relished savoring this dark and twisted kind of affection.
But at this moment, she inexplicably felt a chill run down her spine.
Meanwhile, at the other end of the surveillance feed connected to the maid’s room, Fu Chen was admiring Shang Wan’s ever-changing expressions.
Before last night, Fu Chen had never felt the slightest desire to probe into Shang Nanzhi.
A vapid actress with nothing but a pretty face. A fool whose eyes held only desire, who had even dared to drug him to satisfy her own cravings.
For someone like that, Fu Chen truly couldn’t be bothered to spare another glance.
However, last night, when the bodyguards broke down the door, helped him out of the bathroom, and asked how he intended to deal with Shang Nanzhi, he inexplicably recalled the hand she had used to cover his eyes.
The scent of blood seemed to linger at the tip of his nose, followed closely by Shang Nanzhi’s voice.
Like a curse.
She had said, “Fu Chen, you can’t.”
This wasn’t right, Fu Chen thought.
Shang Nanzhi shouldn’t be like this.
Fu Chen remembered that in that same cramped bathroom, Shang Nanzhi’s arms had been tightly wrapped around him.
She had called his name in an ambiguous, indistinct voice, saying to him, “Fu Chen, I’m so hot.”
In that instant, he had felt disgusted.
So he had grabbed her by the throat.
Fu Chen had to admit that, for a moment, he had truly considered killing Shang Nanzhi.
Yet, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, Shang Nanzhi had taken on a completely different demeanor.
That eerily calm gaze in the bathroom.
And now—
Under the high-definition surveillance installed just last night in the Fu residence’s maid’s room, Shang Nanzhi’s forehead was already slick with cold sweat from the pain induced by the alcohol, yet she hadn’t uttered a single groan. Instead, she had inexplicably shown a faint, almost imperceptible smile.
It was utterly different from her usual inflated, pretentious, and affected manner.
This wasn’t right. It was very, very wrong.
Fu Chen’s gaze lingered on the surveillance screen for two seconds before shifting away.
After a long while, he rubbed the already bandaged wound on his palm and instructed his assistant, Zhou Wei, “Go bring Shang Nanzhi over. Tell her the doctor has arrived.”
Outside the maid’s room.
Shang Wan glared with displeasure at Zhou Wei, who had suddenly appeared before her, and asked word by word, “What did you say? Say it again!”
Zhou Wei’s expression remained completely unruffled as he replied to Shang Wan in a measured tone, “Miss Shang, the doctor arranged by President Fu has just arrived at the Fu residence. President Fu has asked me to take you to have your wound treated now.”
Shang Wan: “…”
She glanced at the large sanitary pad stuck to her arm and forced a smile. “Heh, thank President Fu so much. The doctor’s timing is truly impeccable.”
Zhou Wei: “You’re welcome.”
Shang Wan: “…”
Complaints aside, only a fool would refuse to see a doctor when one was available.
Moreover, as Shang Wan, still running a high fever, slowly followed behind Zhou Wei, she thought that she still needed to strike while the iron was hot and make Fu Chen abandon any thoughts of getting rid of her first.
Her high spirits lasted only a few minutes before Shang Wan quickly regretted her decision.
The Fu residence was absurdly large, with courtyards and gardens designed like a labyrinth.
Wrapped in a coat that offered style but no warmth, Shang Wan followed Zhou Wei through countless winding corridors obscured by flowers and trees. Finally, she couldn’t help but ask, “Assistant Zhou, how much longer do we have to walk?”
Zhou Wei stopped and replied to Shang Wan in his perpetually unchanged tone, “Miss Shang, we’ll be there soon.”
Shang Wan, who had heard the exact same answer ten minutes ago: “…”
Forcing her weary limbs to keep moving, Shang Wan took a deep breath and was about to give up and stop walking altogether when her gaze shifted slightly. She noticed two people walking side by side from around the corner of the corridor ahead.
She had to admit that her first reaction upon seeing these two was: Star Path truly lived up to its reputation as a romance novel.
Every male character was ridiculously good-looking.
Handsome, incredibly handsome, so handsome it made her dizzy.
At the same time, the System’s beeping sounds rang out continuously in her mind.
System: “Hello, Host. New characters have been detected nearby. The System kindly reminds you to pay attention to your Bond Points collection progress!”