On the second floor of the Willow Mansion’s front hall, the atmosphere between the long-separated aunt and nephew had clearly softened compared to the beginning.
“A bit interesting,” Qin Xian said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Back then, the old man went all out to prop up his eldest son, even driving me out of Shen City. Now, his grandson is helping me deal with his son.”
Qin Juanshu knew Qin Xian still harbored suspicions toward him.
He threw out a piece of information unknown to outsiders: “Three years ago, the international project Qin Chi wanted to secure cost tens of billions just in the early bidding phase. Minghong faced plenty of overt and covert obstructions, but in the end, the force that sniped Minghong came from two sources—one from the government, and one from overseas.”
Qin Juanshu continued, “The person behind the government’s force was you, Little Aunt. Over these years in the capital, it seems your connections in politics run deeper than in business.”
Qin Xian didn’t admit it, smiling slyly. “I didn’t do any such thing. We’re all Qin family members—how could I do anything to harm Minghong?”
Qin Juanshu didn’t need her admission; the truth was clear to both. He pressed on: “And the overseas force obstructing Minghong? That was led by me.”
“It seems my nephew hasn’t been idle abroad all these years.” Qin Xian swirled her wine glass. “Alright, count me in on whatever you’re planning. This isn’t a good place to talk—let’s find another chance to chat properly later.”
Though Qin Xian said this, Qin Juanshu didn’t move.
“Is there something else?” Qin Xian asked.
Qin Juanshu cleared his throat lightly. “Little Aunt, do you know anyone in the entertainment industry? Could you introduce some to your nephew?”
“The entertainment industry? Minghong doesn’t have any ventures there.” Qin Xian thought for a moment, then said incredulously, “That studio Qin Chi shoved at you as a springboard—you’re not really planning to run it properly, are you?”
The fact that Qin Xian could ask this showed that, ever since Qin Juanshu returned to the country, she—this exiled eldest daughter of the Qin family in the capital—had been keeping tabs on developments in Shen City.
Qin Juanshu said nothing, tacitly agreeing.
It wasn’t surprising others found it odd. He himself hadn’t taken that rundown little studio seriously at first either. But who could have guessed it housed someone he had no choice but to worry about.
Qin Xian didn’t pry further, merely expressing mild surprise. “The entertainment industry, huh? Let me think… There’s actually someone influential here. Do you know Xie Jin? You just got back from abroad, so you might not. He’s a household-name film emperor in the country.”
Qin Juanshu said, “Just an actor?”
Qin Xian laughed. “Far more than just an actor. His grandfather was once the Minister of Culture. Though his descendants no longer enter politics, people in related circles are still willing to give him face. With that connection, his status in the industry is unshakable.”
“I remember he was there earlier…” Qin Xian craned her neck to look in one direction but saw no one. “Huh, where’d he go?”
Xie Jin had come with his younger sister, Xie Yao.
His late grandfather had a good relationship with the Zhong family. Now, with the Zhong family head’s only son returning from abroad and a generational shift imminent for the Zhong family, Willow Mansion had invited numerous guests, and an invitation naturally went to them as well. As soon as the dance began, Xie Yao had hiked up her skirt and headed to the dance floor. Xie Jin, lacking interest, hadn’t joined her. Instead, he leaned against the second-floor railing, gazing at the crowd milling about below without focusing on any particular spot.
When idle, one’s mind wandered easily, and Xie Jin once again recalled that spring rain—this was the umpteenth time he couldn’t help but think back on it lately.
The lingering rain, the dancing water droplets, the brilliantly blooming petite double-petaled chrysanthemums, and the young man who waved his short arms like a penguin.
He couldn’t stop himself from thinking about it.
Since that day, Xie Jin realized that falling for someone could happen in an instant—a single glimpse was enough to make one lose control over their own heart.
But the spring rain had passed in a hurry. After the young man hugged his flowers and vanished into the rain curtain, the only trace left was a WeChat name obtained at checkout.
It left him endlessly melancholic.
Every time he recalled it all, his heart felt as heavy as if soaked in damp mist. This time should have been no different… Yet suddenly, Xie Jin focused intently on the floor below. He spotted a figure that made him doubt if he was still dreaming.
The crowd surged like woven threads, everyone dressed in similar formal attire, but Xie Jin instantly picked out the one who’d haunted his dreams.
“How could it be…” Xie Jin murmured.
Was he dreaming? How could that person be here?
Xie Jin had played countless roles and was best at reading people—he could guess someone’s background at a glance. By all rights, that young man shouldn’t appear at an event like this.
But everything before his eyes was unmistakably real. That figure reappeared, and Xie Jin saw him frowning slightly, seemingly enduring physical discomfort. His steps had grown unsteady as he headed toward the rest area provided for guests by the Zhong family.
He was in trouble.
The moment this thought flashed into Xie Jin’s mind, he could no longer stand still. He rushed straight down to the first floor.
Bai Ying suspected he’d eaten something bad.
It might slander the Zhong family chefs, but midway through his meal, he suddenly felt off. His head grew foggy at first—he thought it was the noisy surroundings—but soon, the discomfort multiplied.
His vision blurred, bringing an urge to cry that was hard to bear. His limbs felt weak for no reason, and he nearly dropped his spoon without noticing. Worst of all, a scorching heat rose from the depths of his body, quickening his breath.
This was bad…
A startling guess bubbled up in Bai Ying’s mind. Why did this feel like the onset of his mating season?
But it shouldn’t be!
Even in human form, the little snake retained some animal instincts, like mating season. Bai Ying’s came once a year, with fixed start and end times. Fortunately, it hadn’t begun until after graduation—otherwise, he couldn’t have hidden it from his university roommates. Unfortunately, it lasted a long time, consuming his entire annual leave, so he remembered the dates etched in his bones.
His mating season was clearly in autumn, and spring had only passed halfway!
Had he eaten something wrong, or… was it something from work again?
Even now, Bai Ying hadn’t thought of the grape juice Zhang Xunyi had given him.
He only knew all his body’s reactions pointed to one thing—his mating season had inexplicably come early.
This was done for, done for, done for… That was the only thought left in Bai Ying’s head. Ignoring the spoon that had fallen to the table, he braced himself against the surface and stood hastily. His eyes, now misted over, located the rest area Qin Juanshu had mentioned, and he stumbled toward it with unsteady steps.
Bai Ying tried not to show anything amiss, but a Zhong family servant still noticed something was wrong with this guest. Someone approached. “Do you need help, sir?”
“I… I think I’ve had a bit too much to drink,” Bai Ying lied, though he hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol. “Just need to rest.”
“I’ll escort you there.” The Zhong family servant was dutiful.
“No need!” Bai Ying recoiled almost hysterically from the servant’s reaching hand. He steadied himself with effort and said in as normal a tone as possible, “Sorry, I don’t like physical contact with others… I can go myself.”
“Alright.” The servant withdrew his hand and pointed out the way for Bai Ying.
Willow Mansion’s rest area resembled a hotel corridor, with rooms on one side and walls adorned with paintings—any of which could fetch top dollar at auction—casually hung by the Zhong family. Bai Ying paid no attention to what was painted. The moment he entered the currently empty rest area, his legs buckled. He braced himself against the wall to stay upright.
He needed to find a safe, empty place to hole up.
Bai Ying’s plan was to pick a room at random. These could only be locked from inside, so an open door meant it was unoccupied. He lowered his head and roughly yanked open his collar. Cool air rushed in, dispelling some of the heat.
“Hoo…”
Bai Ying exhaled long and hard, feeling a bit of strength return. As he prepared to take a step, an arm suddenly wrapped around his waist from behind.
“Are you feeling unwell?” Fang Peng, here to claim his prize, flashed a hypocritical smile and asked with feigned concern.
The strength Bai Ying had just mustered vanished instantly.
A stranger had appeared out of nowhere behind him and pulled. Bai Ying stumbled back into his arms. Fang Peng pressed his advantage, wrapping his other arm around him too. He looked down at Bai Ying’s dazed eyes and smiled in satisfaction.
From this angle, that face looked even more beautiful, the eyes now glazed with mist. He wondered how stunning it would be when those eyes welled with tears on the bed later.
The drug was truly excellent—it softened the limbs for total compliance while stoking desire. Fang Peng couldn’t wait to see the beauty succumb helplessly to his body’s instincts, crumbling into the sea of lust.
He’d comfort him properly afterward.
Fang Peng said, “Let me take you to rest.”
Bai Ying could only muster one weak word: “No…”
He couldn’t be alone with anyone right now. He had to shift back to his original form to endure this inexplicably early mating season.
Though he didn’t know the mechanism, snake form could withstand far more desire than human. If he didn’t shift, he’d die…
Bai Ying didn’t actually know what Fang Peng intended—he only knew he’d die if he didn’t shift, but being seen turning into a snake might get him killed too.
Yet the man gripped his waist tightly. Bai Ying had no strength to break free. Seeing the man drag him toward a room—and apparently planning to enter together—Bai Ying felt despair.
Maybe he should just shift and get beaten to death. That might be a more dignified way to go.
Just as the door was about to be pushed open, a sharp rebuke came from the corridor side: “What are you doing?!”
Startled, Fang Peng looked over to see Xie Jin striding toward them in fury. He recognized Xie Jin’s face and background, forcing a smile. “Teacher Xie, my boyfriend isn’t feeling well. I’m just taking him to rest…”
Xie Jin said coldly, “Let him go!”
Fang Peng stiffened. “What’s wrong with holding my boyfriend? Is Teacher Xie overstepping?”
“Your boyfriend?” Xie Jin sneered. “How would I not know when he got a boyfriend?”
Fang Peng’s heart skipped. No way—did Xie Jin know this guy?
Xie Jin didn’t even know Bai Ying’s name yet, but the youth who looked like a clumsy penguin in a raincoat, who darted into the rain like a fawn… There was no way he’d date a playboy like this.
Moreover, he clearly looked drugged!
Seeing Fang Peng refuse to release him, Xie Jin threw a direct punch.
The sharp pain forced Fang Peng to let go of the person in his arms and raise his arm to defend himself clumsily. Xie Jin’s first role as a teen had been in a martial arts film, and he’d kept up his training over the years. Trash like Fang Peng couldn’t even fight back.
After several heavy blows, Fang Peng saw stars and was on the verge of blacking out. Xie Jin quickly looked up to check on Bai Ying, only to find he’d taken the chance to flee!
Xie Jin caught sight of Bai Ying stumbling down the corridor toward the end.
“Little Bai!” In his panic, Xie Jin shouted the name from Bai Ying’s WeChat.
But upon hearing it, Bai Ying ran even more frantically. The mating season hit with unusual ferocity. Not long ago, he’d been happily eating little cakes; now, he could barely see the path. After shoving open several doors and finding them occupied, Bai Ying barreled forward on instinct alone, heedless of where he was headed.
He burst through a door, and the air suddenly cleared. The night chill blew in, easing his discomfort somewhat. He broke into a run across the lush gardens, completely unaware this was the central courtyard Qin Juanshu had warned him not to cross.
Beyond the central courtyard lay the residence of Willow Mansion’s master.
Few guarded this area. Those assigned to serve Mr. Liu were Zhong family members who knew his identity, and they now trailed behind him. He hadn’t proceeded to the front hall. As the clamor grew nearer, Mr. Liu lost interest and stopped at the central courtyard, gazing up at the bright full moon overhead.
The first rule for those attending Mr. Liu was silence.
No one dared risk annoying a great demon.
However, the silence was broken by hurried footsteps. A person stumbled toward Mr. Liu’s direction. The Zhong family retainers behind Mr. Liu shifted slightly; someone’s hand pressed against the gun holstered at their waist. Zhong Qian’s expression changed the most dramatically. He widened his eyes in disbelief. That quiet gardenia flower had somehow drifted here.
He instinctively stepped forward, unsure whether to keep outsiders away from Mr. Liu or to protect the newcomer.
But he was stopped.
Zhong Qian tensed every muscle in his body, halting his forward momentum abruptly. The one blocking him was Mr. Liu himself.
The raised arm lowered quickly.
What happened next was even more shocking. Mr. Liu actually strode toward the person who seemed off—someone who appeared to have lost consciousness, moving purely on instinct.
If anyone dared to look into his eyes, they would see that those usually calm, still pools now rippled faintly.
Bai Ying crashed into someone’s embrace, like a disoriented butterfly.
He had no idea how many hands had already gripped gun handles, only to freeze at the sight that followed.
Zhong Qian’s breath caught. Mr. Liu actually…
Mr. Liu actually embraced the panicked person who had blindly run into his arms.
That person even pounded weakly against Mr. Liu’s chest. The young man’s voice trembled: “Let me go…”
Mr. Liu didn’t let go. Instead, he held him even tighter.
He lowered his head, burying it in the young man’s neck, and caught a scent that wasn’t his imagination.
“Little snake, where did you come from?” his long-still heart beat again in that moment. “How did you end up here?”
Ignoring the youth’s feeble struggles, Mr. Liu scooped him up horizontally and turned toward the depths of Willow Mansion. He left only one command: “Guard this place. No one enters without my summons.”
The Zhong family retainers, their expressions dazed, obeyed instinctively: “Yes.”
Xie Jin, who had rushed over in pursuit, thus accidentally lost track of his beloved.
![The Spoiled Little Beauty is Always Abusing the Protagonist [Quick Transmigration]](https://i1.wp.com/dobynovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/12/quickk.jpg?resize=151,215 "The Spoiled Little Beauty is Always Abusing the Protagonist [Quick Transmigration]")
