Pregnant With the Villain’s Child, I Watched Him Give My Scarf to Another Woman

I was pregnant with the villain’s child—and then I saw, with my own eyes, the man I loved sending home the one girl I hated most.

She was wearing my favorite limited-edition scarf, the one he gave me—supposedly the only one in the world.

I turned away, tossed the positive pregnancy test into the trash, and felt my heart sink.

—

Here’s the twist: I’m actually living inside a novel.

In the book, the male and female leads are locked in this wildly toxic relationship.

The villain, Ji Hengchuan, was kidnapped by traffickers as a child, only to be rescued in secret by a little girl.

Now, all grown up, Lin Anjing just happens to look exactly like that little savior. That’s why Ji Hengchuan can’t help but favor her.

But Lin Anjing is trouble. While she laps up all of Ji Hengchuan’s attention and affection, she can’t get over her childhood sweetheart, Cheng Yihang.

To make matters worse, Ji Hengchuan and Cheng Yihang’s families are sworn enemies.

In the end? Lin Anjing betrays Ji Hengchuan by stealing his company secrets and handing them to Cheng Yihang. She ruins him, then waltzes off hand-in-hand with her true love, living happily ever after.

When I first read that ending, I was so mad I wanted to leap into the story and slap Lin Anjing myself.

But my real sympathy was for Ji Hengchuan—the villain everyone used and betrayed, who gave everything and got nothing in return.

And then, like a bad joke, I actually woke up in the book. I was Su Qiao, the disposable side character, barely even worth mentioning.

Well, except for the fact that I happened to be gorgeous.

The heroine’s your typical sweet, innocent little flower. Me? I’m the showstopper, the knockout with a quick tongue and a lot of nerve.

Before the plot even had a chance to get rolling, I used every trick I had—charm, wit, and a little shameless initiative—and snagged Ji Hengchuan for myself.

—

The massive bed in our luxury apartment was empty when I woke up.

He was already gone.

May 8th.

In the original story, this was the day Ji Hengchuan met Lin Anjing.

Right on cue, my phone buzzed with his text:

“Awake?”

I shot back, “I’m up, baby. What are you doing?”

He told me he was busy with interviews at the company. Of course, today’s the day Lin Anjing is supposed to show up and apply for a job.

He replied: “I’m in the interview.”

So I cranked up the charm:

“Is that really more important than me? Come on, have lunch with me!”

I didn’t wait for his answer. Instead, I got dressed, put on a little lipstick, and told him, “I’ll be there in half an hour!”

At lunch, I clung to him with everything I had—so much that he finally got impatient, ditched the interviews to his assistant, and took me out to eat across from his office.

After lunch, I walked him back to the company.

We stopped at the curb. He kissed me goodbye—sweet, warm, like nothing was wrong in the world.

But I’d barely taken two steps when I saw Lin Anjing sprint out the front doors, right into Ji Hengchuan’s waiting arms.

He hugged her tight, staring into her face like he’d just found his destiny.

My heart turned to ice.

I stood on the other side of the street, watching the moment they first met, and felt my heart drop straight into my stomach.

Ji Hengchuan had always been distant with everyone else, but for the girl he cared about, he’d move mountains.

No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t outrun fate—or the story’s script.

I kept telling myself it was just a coincidence, that if I held onto his heart tightly enough, maybe I could change the ending.

But over the next few days, he got busier at work, and the time he spent with me shrank to almost nothing.

I thought, if I could just get a job at his company, maybe I could stay close to him.

“Ji Hengchuan, I want to work at your company too,” I said, trying to sound casual.

He stared at me for a few seconds, then shot me down flat: “Su Qiao, Lancheng Technology isn’t the kind of place you can just mess around in.”

The words stung.

So Lin Anjing could get in, but I couldn’t?

Out of curiosity, I asked an upperclassman about Lin Anjing’s interview. Turned out she’d messed up her interview, ran back to her dorm in tears, but somehow landed the job the very next day.

I couldn’t hold back—I argued with him.

But he was colder than I’d ever seen him, like the man who used to spoil me had vanished overnight.

“Su Qiao, have I spoiled you too much?”

I said nothing, just hung up.

Rain hammered the windows, keeping me awake. At some point, I realized I hadn’t even closed the window, and the chill in the room was biting.

One in the morning, and he still wasn’t home.

My phone finally lit up with a text:

“Don’t make a scene. I’ll agree to anything except work. I’ll bring you a gift when I get back from my business trip.”

I stared at the message and scoffed, “Who even wants your dumb gift?”

Then he called.

“Baby, why aren’t you asleep?”

I lied without missing a beat. “Can’t sleep without you.”

He chuckled, “Still mad at me?”

I could just picture him leaning on the balcony of some hotel in France, one hand on the railing, staring out into the city lights with that brooding look.

“If you’d just spend more time with me, I wouldn’t be mad,” I said, turning up the sweetness.

And just like that, we made up.

Guess men really are suckers for this stuff.

Three days later, his assistant let it slip that Ji Hengchuan had gone on a business trip to France—and brought Lin Anjing with him. Because, of course, she speaks French.

I opened up my social feed and saw Lin Anjing’s latest post:

“Dreamed of seeing lavender fields my whole life—finally here~”

She was beaming in the photo, looking blissfully happy.

And in the lower corner of the picture, I spotted the reflection of a face I knew all too well: Ji Hengchuan.

I gripped my phone so tight my knuckles went white.

Since when did a tech company need to visit lavender fields, anyway?

When Ji Hengchuan finally came home, I was curled up in bed, barely awake.

Lately, I’d been so tired all the time, but somehow never really slept well.

He leaned down and kissed my forehead, and I cracked my eyes open just enough to see his familiar face.

He brushed a hand over my hair and tried to kiss me, but I turned my head away.

Still, he just smiled. “I brought you something. Come see.”

I opened the gift box and spotted the red scarf right away—a global limited edition, only one of each color in the world.

I barely glanced at it before stuffing it back in the box and hiding it deep in my closet.

He followed me in and wrapped his arms around me from behind.

He still smelled like maple—the scent I’d always loved.

“I missed you,” he whispered.

And for a moment, all my anger just melted away.

That night, we were close again, just like nothing had ever happened.

Like there was nothing going on between him and Lin Anjing.

But June in City A was a mess—heavy, suffocating, impossible to breathe.

Even now, in the middle of summer, the air felt clammy and cold.

I hadn’t had my period in almost two months. The more I thought about it, the more irritable and anxious I got.

According to the story, by this point, my character—Su Qiao, the expendable supporting girl—should’ve faded completely into the background.

Meanwhile, Ji Hengchuan and Lin Anjing were supposed to be catching feelings for each other.

On the surface, he still acted like he cared about me, but he was coming home less and less.

Word was, Cheng Yihang, the male lead, had started going on dates with Lin Anjing too.

I scrolled through her social media, trying to spot anything weird, but nothing stood out.

I lay in bed, googling all the reasons my period could be late, and my panic only grew.

Everything pointed to the same answer—pregnant.

“No way, right?”

“We were always so careful...”

“But online it says accidents happen...”

I kept denying it to myself, but my feet carried me out the door anyway.

“I’ll just buy a pregnancy test and see,” I muttered.

On my way out, Ji Hengchuan texted: “Are you home? I need to swing by and grab something.”

I replied, “I’m out.”

All he said back was “OK.” He didn’t even ask where I was going.

By the time I got home, the rain was coming down hard and the air was freezing.

I hurried to the bathroom, took out the pregnancy test, and waited.

Thirty minutes later, I stared at those two red lines for what felt like forever, completely shell-shocked.

Was I really pregnant?

Did I seriously have the villain’s baby growing inside me?

My first instinct was to call Ji Hengchuan.

He didn’t pick up.

So I rang his assistant, who told me he was stuck in a meeting at Xufeng Tower.

Without thinking, I grabbed my keys and drove straight there.

Before I could even reach him, I spotted Ji Hengchuan and Lin Anjing walking out of the building together.

She was hugging her arms, clearly cold. The next thing I knew, she slipped into his car.

My hands froze on the steering wheel, knuckles white.

I tailed them, keeping my distance, all the way to some old neighborhood.

When Lin Anjing got out of the car, I saw it immediately—she was wearing the red scarf.

My scarf. The one Ji Hengchuan had given me.

So that’s what he’d come home to get.

I pulled over, killed the engine, stepped out, dug the pregnancy test out of my bag, and tossed it straight into the trash on the curb.

I was done. I didn’t want this man anymore.

I got back in the car, watched them say their goodbyes, and took a shaky breath.

Then I called him.

“Where are you?” I asked, voice tight.

“I’m having dinner with a client. I’ll be back soon.”

Through the window, I could see his silhouette in the car—his tone was clipped, distant.

“Are you with Lin Anjing?”

He paused, caught off guard. “How do you know her?”

I let out a dry laugh. “Why, does that make you nervous?”

He went quiet for a few seconds, then rolled down his window and lit a cigarette.

“She’s just an employee. If you want to throw a fit, go ahead, but don’t drag her into it.”

“So I’m not even allowed to ask anymore?”

“Don’t make a scene.” His voice was getting sharp. “We’ll talk when I get home.”

He hung up.

I watched his car disappear, my mind spinning.

I had nobody in this world. My parents were long gone, and all I had left was a bit of inheritance to finish college.

Now, the baby inside me was my only family.

I pressed a hand to my stomach, my eyes burning.

Ji Hengchuan had bought me plenty of things, but he’d never actually given me any real money.

How was I supposed to raise a child on my own, after leaving him?

I had to think fast—first step: make some cash.

I drove home, head full of ideas on how to scrape by.

When I got back, he was holed up in the study, still working.

I ignored him and went straight to the shower.

By the time I came out, he was lying on the bed, fresh from his own shower.

“Su Qiao, I—” he started.

I cut him off. “When I went to get my pajamas from the closet, I noticed the red scarf from France was missing. Where’d it go?”

He didn’t even look up from his phone. “It was cold today. I lent it to a coworker.”

“Lin Anjing?” I pressed.

He finally looked up. “Can you stop being so petty?”

“Petty? I’m not the one who shuts down every time you hear her name.”

He went quiet, sighing deeply.

“When I was a kid, I was kidnapped and taken up into the mountains. A little girl saved my life. Lin Anjing looks just like her, so I feel responsible for her.”

“Oh, so my scarf is your tool for playing hero now?”

“Yes,” he said, completely serious, like having a sob story made it all okay.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. “Well, since you’ve already given the scarf away, I don’t want it back.”

He probably thought that meant I’d dropped it. But then I added, “So why don’t you just buy it off me at market price?”

I’d already checked—this scarf was worth half a million, and you couldn’t find another even if you tried.

A flicker of sarcasm crossed his face. “Su Qiao, you really know how to do the math.”

He pulled out his phone, tapped a few times, and a moment later—ding—my phone buzzed.

Five hundred thousand in my bank account, with the note: “For your scarf.”

I looked at the balance and smiled. “No, it’s your scarf now.”

With him out of the house, I snuck into his study to look up everything about pregnancy symptoms and precautions, plus checked out some job postings.

The second I heard the front door, I closed every tab in a panic and walked out like nothing was up.

He was at the door, loosening his tie and tossing his jacket on the sofa. I ignored him and went back to my room, making an appointment with a realtor to check out apartments the next afternoon.

As I walked around this house I’d lived in for nearly two years, every corner showed some touch of my own effort and taste. But I knew I wasn’t taking any of it with me.

I hit the closet and storage room, pulled out all the gifts he’d given me and the big-ticket stuff I’d bought, and started posting everything online.

My listing title was blunt as can be:

“Jerk Ex’s Loot—Everything Must Go!”

After uploading some pretty photos and writing eye-catching descriptions, messages started pouring in.

“Hey boss, can you do any better on the price for that camping gear?”

The message came from someone with the username “Tianfeng Xinglan”—profile pic, a lone figure hiking across the desert. Definitely an outdoorsy type.

I’d actually bought the gear to go on trips with Ji Hengchuan, but of course, we never used it.

I replied, “Love’s gone, but does that mean I have to lose money on the gear too?”

I threw in a crying emoji for good measure.

“Tianfeng Xinglan” didn’t even try to haggle, just placed the order and sent over the address.

Turns out, they lived right here in City A, not far from me. We set up a time to meet in person tomorrow.

We were still messaging back and forth when, all of a sudden, my door burst open.

Startled, I jumped. “Ji Hengchuan, what the hell is wrong with you?”

He stood in the doorway, breathing hard, eyes swirling with a storm of emotions.

“Su Qiao, come with me to the hospital.”

“Are you out of your mind? Why are we going to the hospital in the middle of the night?”

He looked at me, voice shaky with excitement. “I checked your browser history… Are you pregnant? It’s ours, right?”

I just stared at him, silent.

My lack of response made him start to panic.

“Since you already know, fine.” I yanked my hand away. “I was going to tell you after I got things in order, but whatever—now you know.”

I paused, meeting his eyes.

“Ji Hengchuan, let’s break up.”

His whole face changed, like I’d just struck him with lightning.

“You’re pregnant with my kid and you’re dumping me?”

“You heard me. I’m being perfectly clear. We’re done.”

My calmness seemed to rattle him even more.

“I don’t accept this!” he barked, lunging forward to grab me.

I darted back to the window, arm outstretched. “Stay there. Let’s talk like adults.”

He froze, so I sank back into my chair.

“Ji Hengchuan, I never thought you’d let me down like this.”

He looked at me like I was speaking another language.

“Haven’t I treated you well? Haven’t I given you everything you wanted? What more could you possibly want?”

“Did you ever think about me when you got cozy with other women?”

“Did you even ask before you gave away my things?”

“When you shut me out of your company but let Lin Anjing in, did my feelings ever cross your mind?”

Tears welled up as I stood.

“I’ll raise this baby myself. It has nothing to do with you. I’ll sleep in the guest room until I’m ready to go.”

“I said I don’t want to break up!” he shouted, his voice rough. “I just want to look after Lin Anjing, what’s so wrong about that?”

I let out a bitter laugh, my heart going cold.

“Do you even understand what emotional cheating is? You think you’re just taking care of her?”

Step by step, I closed the gap between us; he just kept backing away.

He finally sighed, seeing I wasn’t in the mood to argue.

“Fine. Let’s talk tomorrow. Get some rest tonight—I’ll sleep in the study.”

At the door, he paused and turned back.

“I’ll go with you to the hospital tomorrow. That baby is mine too.”

After he left, I sat on the bed and changed my meeting time with Tianfeng Xinglan.

I tossed my phone on the nightstand, lay down, and covered my eyes with my hand.

I didn’t know if I’d ever get back to my own world—or if that was even possible.

But right now… what was I supposed to do?

Could I stay? Could I keep this baby?

My mind was such a mess, I drifted off before I even knew it.

The next morning, Ji Hengchuan showed up at my door.

I still needed to know what was going on with my own body, so I let him take me to the hospital.

He was all nerves—running around, filling out forms, barely sitting still.

After what felt like hours, the doctor finally called us in.

“Ms. Su Qiao, you’re not pregnant.” She glanced up from the report, her tone gentle but final.

I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding.

He, on the other hand, looked like his whole world had come crashing down, but honestly, I felt light enough to float away.

This was the best possible news.

“So what about the two lines on the test?” I asked, just to be sure.

“It could be a false positive,” the doctor explained, “sometimes it’s the test, sometimes it’s a medication you took, sometimes just user error. Either way, the hospital’s test is the one that counts.”

She noticed Ji Hengchuan’s gloomy face and added kindly, “You’re both still young—there’s plenty of time.”

In my heart, I promised myself there wouldn’t be a next time.

Outside, I stopped and faced him.

“So, it was all a misunderstanding. Let’s not drag this out. I’ll move out as soon as I can.”

He grabbed my hand in desperation. “I fired Lin Anjing—don’t go.”

“No,” I said, pulling free. “I told you last night. Cheat once, lose trust forever. You’re a businessman. You should understand how that works.”

He insisted, “There’s really nothing between me and her!”

But I turned away without another word.

Back home, I started packing up everything I owned, arranging for a courier to come and haul the big stuff away.

Whatever didn’t matter, I left behind.

When my agent called with a place to see, I took it without hesitation—a one-bedroom, two-living-room apartment nearby. It wasn’t much, but it was mine.

That night, Ji Hengchuan showed up again—drunk out of his mind, his assistant practically dragging him in.

He slumped on the sofa, reeking of booze, face ghost-pale.

I just wrinkled my nose and told the assistant to leave him there.

I was about to walk away when he suddenly opened his eyes.

“Did you know… Lin Anjing already has a boyfriend?”

I just looked at him—of course I knew, wasn’t it Cheng Yihang?

“Who you mess around with is none of my business anymore,” I said flatly.

He frowned, confused.

“Wasn’t all this because of her? She’s got a boyfriend now. Why are you still making such a big deal out of it?”

I gave him a small, gentle smile, but my eyes were icy cold. “I don’t love you anymore.”

I couldn’t stand to stay in that place for another second.

I turned around, went to my room, grabbed my bags, and when I came out, he was already passed out on the sofa.

I headed straight for the tiny apartment I’d just rented. The furniture was bare-bones, but at least it was mine.

I spread out a thin blanket on the couch, curled up tight, and tried to make myself as small as possible.

At first, I’d thought my presence in this world would somehow change the story. But it turned out the plot was rolling right along, with or without me.

I’d already left Ji Hengchuan behind—so why was I still here?

All I wanted was to go home. God, I missed my old life.

Would sleeping help? Would I just wake up and find myself back where I belonged?

I closed my eyes and clung to that tiny shred of hope.

…

But when I woke up, all I saw was the same empty rental.

Still trapped in the book.

My mind felt suddenly sharp, and an idea popped into my head—maybe, if I let the main characters finish out their story, I could finally go home.

I didn’t know if it would work, but it was worth a shot.

I checked my phone—a message from Ji Hengchuan.

“Where are you?”

“I already told HR: Lin Anjing will be gone by the end of the month. Stop making a scene and come back.”

Did he really think I was just sulking? That firing Lin Anjing would fix everything?

He didn’t get it at all. If he pulled Lin Anjing out now, she’d never get the chance to steal those files, and she and the male lead would never reunite. If the plot fell apart, so would my chances of getting out of here.

After thinking it over, I sent him a WeChat message:

“Don’t fire Lin Anjing.”

“Why not?”

“We’ve already broken up. Whether she stays or goes doesn’t matter anymore.”

He frowned at my message, confused.

Just then, there was a knock at his office door. Lin Anjing stepped in quietly.

“Mr. Ji, here’s the info you asked for.”

She put the file on his desk and noticed how upset he looked.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. My girlfriend and I just had an argument.”

She paused, then her eyes brightened.

“Want me to help smooth things over? A few of us are planning to hit the hot springs this week. I can invite her along—maybe you two can talk it out.”

Ji Hengchuan just stared at his phone, but you could tell he was considering it.

A moment later, he texted me:

“Lin Anjing and her boyfriend want to go to the hot springs with us this weekend. If you come, I won’t fire her.”

What kind of soap opera twist was this?

The hero and heroine dragging the villain to a hot spring—and inviting their ex-girlfriend, too?

What kind of awkward, reality-TV drama is this supposed to be?

But the deal was, “If you come, I won’t fire her.” So I clenched my jaw and agreed.

Please, Lin Anjing, don’t let me down. Steal those files and run off with the hero already—just let me wake up from this crazy dream.

Friday rolled around.

Early that morning, I met up with “Tianfeng Xinglan” to hand off the camping gear.

She grinned and said, “Why don’t you come camping with me? Meet me at Mingyuan Lake, right outside the city.”

When I got there, she already had everything set up—table, chairs, even a pot of instant noodles bubbling away.

Her curly dark-red hair was pulled up in a messy bun, her skin sun-kissed and healthy.

She wore a dark green tank, linen shorts, and flip-flops—she looked completely at home in the wild.

“Su Qiao?” she called out as soon as she saw me, waving me over with a bright smile.

Conversation with her was easy, never awkward.

She told me her real name was Xinglan. She chose “Tianfeng Xinglan” as her screen name because she wanted to be as free as the wind.

We slurped down our noodles together, then set up the tent. She patted it and laughed,

“This gear is really nice!”

“Yeah, too bad I only got to use it once.” I tried to laugh it off, but the regret stung a little.

Suddenly, she turned to me and asked,

“Want to get out of this city with me? See the world?”

I was stunned. “What did you say?”

Traveling had never even crossed my mind.

Her eyes sparkled with excitement. “Come on! I’m a digital nomad—work anywhere there’s Wi-Fi. I’ve been to so many places, but sometimes it gets lonely being out there by myself.”

She looked right at me, her gaze bright and full of hope.

“Su Qiao, life isn’t just about what’s in front of you.”

Her words hit me like a stone dropped into a still pond, rippling all the way through my heart.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

She just smiled. “Think it over. I’ll be waiting for your answer.”

…

Back in my apartment, I was scrolling through job offers, grumbling to myself.

“Great. I survived time travel just so I could still end up hustling to pay rent?”

I checked my bank account. Not much there, but enough to keep me going for a while.

Maybe I’d be lucky and wake up back home before it all ran out.

I hadn’t given Xinglan an answer yet, but honestly, after that day at Mingyuan Lake, my mind was basically made up.

Before I knew it, the weekend was here.

I had no idea how Ji Hengchuan managed to find my new address, but early that morning, he was already downstairs waiting for me.

He showed up to pick me up first, then we swung by to get Lin Anjing and Cheng Yihang.

The moment I got in the car, I instinctively slid all the way to the far corner of the back seat, putting as much distance as possible between us.

Lin Anjing surveyed the car, then quietly took the front passenger seat.

Cheng Yihang slipped in beside me without a word.

Watching this play out, I couldn’t help but find it a little absurd—and honestly, kind of funny.

At the hotel check-in desk, Ji Hengchuan went to park the car, so it was just me and Cheng Yihang inside.

Lin Anjing stayed outside waiting for Ji Hengchuan, trailing behind.

The front desk clerk took our IDs and, out of habit, asked, “Are you two a couple?”

On impulse, I grabbed Cheng Yihang’s hand and smiled.

“No, my husband’s at home. Can we just keep that between us?”

Then I covered my mouth, shooting him a mock-surprised look like, Oops, my bad.

Just then, Ji Hengchuan and Lin Anjing walked in. Their faces were priceless—surprise, irritation, and confusion all mashed together.

I let go of Cheng Yihang’s hand, fixed my hair, and said, “Just kidding. Please put me in a single room.”

At my room, Ji Hengchuan helped carry my bags.

I slid my keycard, slipped inside, and blocked him at the doorway.

“Mr. Ji, you should head back to your room.”

He leaned on the doorframe, sounding weary. “Su Qiao, can we please stop fighting?”

“I’m only here so our drama doesn’t make things awkward for everyone else,” I replied coolly.

I pried his fingers off the door and shut it in his face.

My phone buzzed a few times.

“Rest up. I’ll come check on you later.”

I ignored the messages, turned off my phone, changed into a yukata, and let myself sink into the private bath in the room.

For a while, I let my mind drift, eyes closed, feeling weightless in the warm water.

Just as I started to doze off, there was a knock at the door.

I got dressed, opened up, and was greeted by a wall of bright red roses—so many flowers, they nearly blocked the doorway.

Ji Hengchuan peeked out from behind them. “Su Qiao, do you like them?”

I gave him a cool, empty smile. “Thanks, but didn’t I tell you? Red roses are way too cliché for me.”

Then I shut the door in his face.

From behind the door, I couldn’t help but peek through the peephole.

Lin Anjing materialized, approaching him with a hint of regret in her voice.

“Oh, I didn’t know Xiaoyu wasn’t a fan of red roses. I actually like them and thought she would, too… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, you didn’t mean anything by it,” Ji Hengchuan replied, as if it was no big deal.

“It’s a shame to waste such pretty flowers.”

“Take them if you want.”

Face expressionless, I snapped the peephole cover shut.

After dinner, Lin Anjing suggested we hit the open-air hot springs.

It was off-season, so the poolside was nearly empty and the whole place felt quiet and still.

The three of them were already in the water by the time I arrived. I slipped into a simple swimsuit—not flashy, but it still got me a few curious glances.

I waded in slowly and settled into a corner, the silence between us thick enough to cut with a knife.

A few minutes passed before Cheng Yihang’s watch buzzed. He got up to check his phone, and when he came back, he leaned over and whispered something to Lin Anjing.

She frowned, clearly annoyed.

“I’m sorry, something urgent came up at work. I have to go,” Cheng Yihang said, getting out of the pool and leaving.

As soon as he was gone, you could feel the shift—Lin Anjing visibly relaxed, a smile breaking across her face.

She paddled over and said cheerfully, “Anyone want some wine? This hotel’s famous for its plum wine.”

I shook my head.

Ji Hengchuan said, “If you’re drinking, I’ll have some with you.”

She immediately hopped out to grab the drinks, practically floating away on air.

As I watched her go, I turned to Ji Hengchuan and finally spoke.

“You don’t need to send me flowers anymore, Ji Hengchuan. Stop trying to win me over. We ended a long time ago.”

I looked him dead in the eyes, voice steady and cool.

“Su Qiao, I just don’t understand how things got like this,” he said, almost pleading.

“You do understand. You’re just pretending you don’t,” I replied.

He looked frustrated. “Are you still hung up on her? You can see for yourself—there’s nothing between us. If you’re still worried, I’ll end it. After tonight, I’ll let her go.”

“I told you not to do that,” I said quietly.

He was about to say something else, but just then Lin Anjing returned, carrying a tray with a few glasses of plum wine, smiling as if nothing had happened.

Whether she overheard or not, I couldn’t tell.

We all had a few drinks, and the mood loosened up a little.

Ji Hengchuan rubbed his temples, looking like he had a headache, while Lin Anjing’s cheeks turned pink and she started giggling—tipsy for sure.

After soaking for a while, I decided I’d had enough. I stood up and said I was going back to my room to pack so I could leave early in the morning.

Our rooms were all on the same floor, so when the elevator arrived, I got out first and said goodbye.

I hadn’t done much all day, but I felt as wiped out as if I’d just run a marathon.

The next morning, my alarm dragged me out of a heavy sleep, my head still foggy.

I finished packing, tried calling Ji Hengchuan—no answer. Tried Lin Anjing—nothing.

He usually slept like a rock, but it was getting late and he still hadn’t stirred.

With my suitcase in hand, I went to knock on Lin Anjing’s door, but got no response.

When I knocked on Ji Hengchuan’s door, everything was eerily quiet.

A wave of unease washed over me. I headed straight to the front desk, found the manager, and explained I was worried they might’ve gotten into trouble after drinking. I asked if someone could help open the door, just to be safe.

A staff member and a cleaning lady came with a master key. I asked them to wait outside as I quietly slipped into the room.

It was dark—only slivers of light broke through the curtains, and the heavy smell of alcohol hung in the air.

Two pairs of slippers were tossed haphazardly on the floor.

My heart raced as I hurried to the bed—and what I saw stopped me cold.

There, tangled together, were Ji Hengchuan and Lin Anjing, holding each other in their sleep.

I let out a cold, bitter laugh.

So much for all his sweet words and promises—turns out, they were just flimsy excuses for his own desires.

The man who said he loved me and wanted me back was with someone else before the night was even over.

It was almost laughable.

But I shouldn’t have been surprised. I’d seen through his so-called “gentleness” long ago.

I pulled out my phone and snapped a photo—proof of just how twisted things had become.

Without another glance, I kicked their clothes out of my way and walked out of the room.

In the taxi, I blocked Ji Hengchuan everywhere—WeChat, phone, every possible contact. I didn’t leave a single way for him to reach me.

At the same time, I texted Xinglan to confirm our flight to Thailand in two weeks.

If the villain had already tangled himself up with the heroine, then let them deal with the rest of their messy story—I was done playing along.

Back at my rental, I finished sorting the last of my things from Ji Hengchuan’s place.

I only kept what I could fit in two suitcases. Everything else went straight to the dumpster.

Meanwhile, in the hotel, Ji Hengchuan woke up and realized there was someone in his arms.

He instinctively pulled her close, thinking it was me.

A second later, he shot upright, panic flashing across his face—this wasn’t Su Qiao.

He sat up fast, rubbing his throbbing temples, frowning as he realized the familiar scent was gone.

He looked down and saw Lin Anjing beside him, his face instantly clouding over.

She woke up, stunned, then looked at herself, then at him—her eyes filling with panic and confusion.

“I… I don’t remember anything from last night…” she stammered, voice trembling.

Ji Hengchuan ran his hands through his hair in frustration and snapped, “Don’t cry!”

He grabbed her wrist, frustration written all over his face.

“What happened last night?”

Lin Anjing shrank back, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just remember coming to drink with you… everything after that is a blur.”

Ji Hengchuan stared at her, struggling to piece together what had happened. But his memory cut off right after he’d walked me to my room and Lin Anjing brought in the wine. After that—nothing.

He glanced down at his phone, saw the long list of missed calls, and slammed it onto the bed in anger.

“What do we do now?” Lin Anjing’s voice was so soft you could barely hear it.

He clenched his jaw. “Don’t say a word about this to anyone. Once we walk out of this room, it never happened. Understand?”

She hesitated, then nodded quietly. “Okay.”

But when she lowered her head, a tiny, almost smug smile played at the corner of her lips.

Ji Hengchuan rushed to shower and change, giving her a cold reminder to take care of herself before he left.

The moment he stepped outside, he called my number.

“The number you dialed is currently unavailable…”

He tried again and again, but all he got was the same automated message.

He opened WeChat—only to see: “You have been blacklisted by the other party.”

He tried every way he could think of: QQ, email, DingTalk. Nothing worked.

With every failed attempt, his face grew darker and darker.

He drove to my apartment just as the sun was setting, the sky blazing orange and red, as if the whole world was laughing at him.

He stood there beneath my building, chain-smoking, waiting for a message that never came.

It finally hit him—this time, I was really gone.

No more second chances.

——

Meanwhile, I was in the kitchen, making instant noodles for dinner.

As soon as the water started boiling, there was a knock at the door.

Not many people knew where I lived, so I called out, “Who is it?”

A voice came from the hallway. “Xiaoyu, it’s me.”

Ji Hengchuan.

I froze, spatula hovering in midair. The audacity.

He really had the nerve to show up?

“What do you want?” I asked, not even bothering to hide my annoyance.

“Open the door. Let’s talk.”

He sounded so casual, as if nothing had happened.

Did he really think I was that easy to fool?

Maybe if I hadn’t seen what I did that morning, he could’ve kept pretending.

But I saw it—I saw him and Lin Anjing, tangled up together in that hotel bed.

That image was burned into my mind, impossible to shake.

This man was a master at pretending.

Now he was standing outside my door, looking all calm, as if nothing had happened at all.

I called out, “You’re not welcome here. Don’t come back.”

Then I turned on my heel and went back to the kitchen, picking up right where I left off with my instant noodles.

But he just kept knocking, over and over, each knock pounding right into my skull.

Finally, I slammed my chopsticks down, fuming.

For a second, I unblocked Ji Hengchuan’s number—just long enough to send him the photo I’d taken that morning.

I hit send.

Then, without hesitation, I blocked him again. Clean, fast, final.

The knocking stopped immediately.

I peeked out the kitchen window and saw him, looking like he’d just been punched in the gut. He stood frozen for a long moment before stumbling back toward his car.

He opened the door but didn’t get in, just stood there, lost.

I shut the curtains. I’d seen enough.

That evening, his assistant Azhe called.

I realized I hadn’t blocked him yet, but it didn’t matter. I let the call ring out and added him to the blacklist too.

A few minutes later, a video popped up on WeChat—a message from Azhe.

In the video, Ji Hengchuan was drunk at a bar, tears streaming down his face, slurring my name.

“Xiaoyu… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean it… Please, can you forgive me…”

There was a message attached, too:

“Sister Xiaoyu, did you and Mr. Ji have a fight? He’s been drinking and won’t listen to anyone. I don’t know what happened, but he really regrets it. Why don’t you come over? He’s at Mahjong Bar, No. 22 Qiuyun Road. I’ll wait for you.”

If this had been before, I probably would’ve caved the moment he said “I’m sorry.”

But not anymore.

I didn’t even want to think about it.

Who knows if his apology was real or just another line?

If sorry could fix everything, no one in this world would ever regret a thing.

I didn’t reply. I just blocked Azhe too.

From that moment on, I promised myself—I’d never ask about Ji Hengchuan again.

My apartment got emptier by the day as I packed up my life.

Furniture returned, things sold or given away, trash taken out.

In the end, I was left with just two suitcases.

Life became quiet. Ordinary.

Ji Hengchuan tried calling from every number he could find, but I didn’t answer a single one.

Sometimes, late at night, I’d look out my window and see him standing under the streetlight downstairs.

He wouldn’t move—just stood there, smoking, the glow of his cigarette the only sign of life.

By morning, he’d always be gone.

He was waiting for me, waiting for someone who was long gone.

Maybe that kind of obsession could have moved the old Su Qiao.

But not me—not anymore.

In three days, I’d be flying to Thailand. My lease was up, and the landlady stopped by to settle up the bills.

Soon, someone new would call this place home.

I packed the last of my things, zipped up my suitcase, and caught a taxi out of there.

Maybe the sound of me moving out was too loud, or maybe the neighbors were just extra nosy that day.

Either way, just as I was about to board my flight, Ji Hengchuan seemed to finally realize I was really leaving.

He called from a string of unfamiliar numbers, desperate. I answered one—just once.

He was still yelling into the phone, “Xiaoyu—”

I cut him off softly, “Goodbye, Ji Hengchuan.”

Then I hung up, powered off my phone, and didn’t look back.

I’m no longer just a supporting role in someone else’s story.

From this moment on, I belong to myself.

My name is Su Qiao, and every step I take from here on out is for me.

Traveling with Xinglan, I finally understood what she meant by “another possibility in life.”

Leaving behind the places and people who suffocated me, I found myself surrounded by what I loved most—good friends, gentle sunlight, clean air, and a freedom that seemed endless.

Life now feels lighter than ever.

I eat what I crave, do what I want, say what’s really on my mind.

Looking back, I realize how small my old dreams were.

I used to think life was about hard work, a stable job, a tidy marriage.

I used to think my purpose was to save a villain, maintain a relationship, or fulfill some mission.

But now I know—life is about following your heart, choosing your own pace, and filling every second with the things that bring you joy.

Every now and then, Ji Hengchuan still sends messages from random numbers.

He says he’s working on a big project, that if the technology succeeds, his company will be on top of the industry.

He tells me an old classmate is getting married and invited both of us.

He says the house is just as I left it, waiting for me to come home.

I never reply.

But I haven’t let go of the story completely.

For instance, Cheng Yihang’s company is finally gaining ground, becoming a true rival to Lancheng Technology.

Both companies are racing for a breakthrough patent—the one who wins will change the entire industry.

Meanwhile, Lin Anjing is still working at Lancheng Technology.

She’s officially Cheng Yihang’s girlfriend, but somehow she remains at the heart of her boyfriend’s competitor, right in the R&D department.

Thanks to her “understanding” with Ji Hengchuan, she manages to keep her position without trouble.

Even without me, the plot keeps chugging forward like a runaway train.

Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever wake up and find myself home again.

Three months later, everything changed.

News broke that Lancheng Technology was about to launch a new patent in December.

But at the end of November, Cheng Yihang’s company, Xingyi Intelligence, held a press conference and announced they had secured the exact same patent—just days ahead of Lancheng.

The entire industry was stunned.

Cheng Yihang stood confidently in front of the cameras, beaming as he announced their big win. He credited their breakthrough to a major collaboration: Professor Chen from Chengjiang University had personally joined their R&D team.

With Professor Chen leading the charge, Xingyi Intelligence’s research pace was nothing short of miraculous.

The news sent shockwaves through the market. Applause flooded in for Han Yi and his team.

But only Ji Hengchuan realized something was off.

Lancheng Technology had been developing this technology for three years—yet Hanyi managed to achieve the same thing in just one?

Technically, it shouldn’t have been possible.

Worse, the details, structures, and key modules in the patent filing matched Lancheng’s design almost exactly.

He couldn’t help but suspect Lin Anjing.

But part of him refused to believe she’d go that far.

Now, with his patents stolen, clients jumping ship, and the company thrown into chaos, Ji Hengchuan didn’t even know where to begin picking up the pieces.

Meanwhile, I’d been in Thailand with Xinglan for three months.

We’d hopped between countries for short stays, but Thailand was always our home base.

This time, though, I felt a pull to go back to China.

I needed to see the end of this drama for myself.

And maybe, just maybe, prepare to finally “go home.”

Who knew if I’d ever make it back to my real world while I was still overseas?

Xinglan said she was bored staying in Thailand alone, so she decided to return to China with me.

I didn’t tell anyone back home.

The moment our plane touched down, a wave of familiar air hit my face.

My heart thudded wildly, whispering to me—

You’re getting closer to home.

I’d expected Lancheng Technology to crash and burn, but not this fast.

Not long after I landed, the first person to reach out was Ji Hengchuan’s old assistant, Azhe.

We met up at a small café in the old part of town.

Gone was the perfectly dressed office pro I remembered. Now, in a simple sweatshirt and sneakers, he looked years younger—just a guy in his twenties, fresh out of college, who’d been pulled into the company by Ji Hengchuan.

After the company went under, he found a smaller, less stressful job.

“Sister Su Qiao, are you doing okay?” he asked, blowing gently on his coffee.

“Better than ever,” I told him, with a quiet smile.

He stared into his cup for a moment, then finally spoke.

“Everyone always thought you were the one who could never leave President Ji. No one expected you’d be the first to go.”

He paused, a flicker of sadness crossing his face.

“After you left, Mr. Ji was like a man who’d lost his soul.”

“I tried to talk him into winning you back, but he never said a word. After a while, I started to realize there was more going on,” Azhe said quietly.

“Lin Anjing was always by his side, helping with everything. No matter how you looked at it, their relationship was sketchy at best.”

“That’s when it hit me—it’s not that you weren’t good enough for him. He was never good enough for you.”

I listened, and all I could say was, “Thank you for telling me.”

Azhe laughed softly. “I might have worked for Mr. Ji, but honestly, I was always rooting for you. I’m really happy to see you doing well.”

When our conversation shifted to Lancheng Technology’s collapse, he shook his head and sighed.

“Anyone who knows this industry could see Mr. Ji poured three years and so many resources into that tech. And then what? Cheng Yihang swoops in, develops it in a year, and gets the patent? Who’s buying that?”

I looked up at him. “Ji Hengchuan must have some idea, right?”

“Of course—he knows. But he just doesn’t want to face the truth.”

“Lin Anjing… dating Cheng Yihang and also running marketing at Lancheng? Anyone can see what’s wrong with that picture.”

He grumbled under his breath, then leaned in conspiratorially.

“And there’s more… Word is, Lin Anjing’s pregnant.”

My hand slipped, and my spoon clattered into my coffee cup.

“You mean… it might be Ji Hengchuan’s?”

“Eighty percent chance,” he said, dead serious.

“So he knows she leaked the project, but he hasn’t called the cops? Is that why?”

“That’s my guess.”

I leaned back, my head spinning.

This was never in the original story…

Was this all a butterfly effect? Did my leaving really end up with Lin Anjing pregnant with the villain’s child?

It was almost unbelievable.

…

We ran into each other again on the street—not planned.

I didn’t even see him until he rushed over and grabbed my wrist.

“Xiaoyu!” he called out.

I spun around.

He looked rough, beard unshaven, but his eyes were desperate, clinging to hope.

He reached out, trying to hug me.

I couldn’t shake him off, so I slapped him. The sound was sharp, echoing between us.

He froze in shock.

I yanked my wrist away, cold as ice. “Ji Hengchuan?”

“Xiaoyu, nothing happened between me and Lin Anjing that night! I swear!”

He was so frantic, his voice cracked.

“This was all her doing! She set it up—I swear!”

He rambled on, nearly incoherent—like a man who’d lost his mind.

People had already started to slow down and watch the spectacle, so I dragged Ji Hengchuan into the dessert shop next door.

“You said she was pregnant with your kid—was that a lie?”

“It’s not mine! Nothing happened between us, I swear!”

“She found out I was about to fire her and staged that whole night just to stay on.”

“How do you know?”

“She told me herself,” he said, sneering. “She figured I was too down and out to do anything about it, so she came clean, thinking she was safe.”

“But what she didn’t realize is that I had proof she stole company data. She took the original and deleted it off my computer, but I had a backup.”

There was a hard, cold glint in his eyes. “I’ve already called the police. I’m gathering evidence and going through the formal charges now.”

He looked at me with a desperate kind of hope.

“When this is all over… will you give me another chance?

I have nothing left, but I’ll start over—I’ll give you a better life.

Please?”

I stood, picked up the glass teapot, and calmly poured a whole pot of warm scented tea right over his head.

“Wake up, even if you’re still dreaming,” I said flatly.

Then I set the teapot down and walked out without looking back.

The ending to this story turned out even more dramatic than the book.

In the original novel, everything ended the moment Ji Hengchuan went bankrupt, and Lin Anjing and Cheng Yihang got together.

But reality dragged on—this drama was far from over.

Ji Hengchuan really did make a comeback.

He gathered evidence and took Lin Anjing to court for stealing trade secrets.

Cheng Yihang found himself caught in the middle—torn between saving Lin Anjing and worrying about her unborn baby. In the end, he couldn’t save anyone.

The court sentenced Lin Anjing to five years in prison and a hefty fine.

She was allowed to postpone her sentence until after the baby was born, but after that, she’d be back behind bars.

Cheng Yihang, ever the loyal fool, went on camera and promised he’d wait for her, that he’d marry her when she was released.

I watched the news and couldn’t help but smile.

Before I left, I bought a new anonymous SIM card.

I asked Azhe for Cheng Yihang’s contact info and sent him the photo of Ji Hengchuan and Lin Anjing in bed together that night.

Just picturing his reaction made the corners of my mouth curl up in satisfaction.

How could Lin Anjing do so much wrong and still think she’d get to walk away a winner?

Did she really believe her childhood sweetheart would still be waiting for her after prison?

Keep dreaming.

But I knew I probably wouldn’t get to see how the rest played out.

Because when the plot finally settled, I woke up.

I opened my eyes to the familiar sight of floral curtains. Sunlight poured through the sheers, spilling across pink sheets.

The air smelled clean, tinged with laundry detergent.

I was home.

It felt like I’d woken from a long, tangled dream. The girl called Su Qiao was me, and yet… not me, just another passerby in a story.

Thinking back on it all, my feelings were complicated.

Cheng Yihang built everything he had by stealing.

Lin Anjing had a boyfriend but never stopped seeking attention elsewhere.

Ji Hengchuan knew she belonged to someone else but refused to face it.

And me? Once upon a time, I thought I could step into a book and “save” a villain. How naïve.

I glanced up at the moon-shaped lamp on my ceiling, my heart aching.

That’s her name—Xinglan.

She isn’t just a character from a story. She’s a light in my real life.

She’s the one who pulled me out of the mud, who showed me that life could be so much more.

And I know I’ll never see her again.

I got up, pulled open the curtains, and let the sunlight warm my face.

A new day had begun.

Maybe I’ll still have lonely nights, or maybe the road ahead will be long and winding.

But I’m not the Su Qiao who lived her whole life for others anymore.

Now, I have myself.

Now, I am free.