Lin Yuan: “I am.”
Shen Leyuan: …
No more attempts to convince the boss. He fled out the door to tattle to Director Hao.
In the room, Lin Yuan let out a low sigh.
Moments later, his phone buzzed with Hao Mingrui’s gleeful schadenfreude: “Oho, finally admitted you’re in love? Stubborn duck cracked?”
Lin Yuan: [Mm]
Then: [Take good care of him]
Hao Mingrui: [What do you mean ‘take care of him’? Don’t you need him around?]
Lin Yuan: [He’s tired. Let him rest]
Hao Mingrui: […]
Hao Mingrui: [You’re off. Really off. You’re not the Lin Yuan I know!]
A throwaway joke hit the truth.
Lin Yuan didn’t reply. He set down the phone, opened his laptop, and worked on strategy plans.
He’d considered full honesty—past life, this life, all of it. But Lin Yao’s awakening and amnesia made him realize his own clarity might not last.
Not the right time for full disclosure. He didn’t want to burden his love.
The words he wanted to say became videos, placed where they belonged—to send to Shen Leyuan, Hao Mingrui, even Lin Yao at the right moment.
Finished, he pulled up old videos, starting from their first meeting in this life.
The shy, bashful love.
The love who angrily jabbed a finger at his nose and cursed him out.
The love who depended on him, trusted him, praised him, drew close.
Memories from two lives blended yet stayed distinct. Lin Yuan clearly knew: This is my wife. Memory lost, but still instinctively trusting me.
The more he watched, the angrier, the more incensed—he slammed the laptop shut.
They say later generations enjoy the shade of trees planted by their forebears. How did this life’s me not only fail to enjoy it, but uproot the damn tree and shove my wife into someone else’s arms?
Stewing, Hao Mingrui sent a message that stoked his fury higher:
[Can’t talk the boss out of it. He’s approved Di Junya’s request. Starting today, he’ll shadow Shen Leyuan to observe and record.]
At that moment, in a café near the hospital.
The private booth had excellent soundproofing. The long-curled-hair “lady” glanced around radiantly, stirring the cube sugar in his coffee with an orchid finger.
He flashed an apologetic smile at Shen Leyuan before saying frankly, “Anyway, that’s the gist of it. I approached you to carry out a mission from my superiors, and the previous consultation was the same.”
To crack open Shen Leyuan’s heart, honesty worked better than concealment.
Shen Leyuan sized him up and nodded thoughtfully, his face showing a subtle “no wonder” expression.
Others might not notice, but Di Junya saw it crystal clear.
“What is it? Got any questions?” He tilted his head slightly, adding a touch of playful charm absent last time. “We’ll be spending a lot of time together, so feel free to speak your mind.”
Shen Leyuan said, “No wonder you can pull off women’s clothes. I thought doctors weren’t allowed such flashy outfits.”
Di Junya: …
He hated his own sharp instincts.
Shen Leyuan was clearly accusing him of lacking professional ethics!
After reviewing the previous encounter, he’d known Shen Leyuan had figured out he was male. He wasn’t too surprised now and chuckled, “Teacher Shen isn’t prejudiced against trans people, is he?”
“I guess,” he added with a laugh, “you’re gay.”
As fellow societal minorities, this could easily bridge the gap, fostering a sense of solidarity in Shen Leyuan and paving the way for deeper conversations.
Shen Leyuan rubbed his cup, feeling a genuine urge to open up about something.
He truly lacked experience in matters of the heart and needed guidance—especially since what he planned next might not be entirely moral, leaving him emotionally indebted.
But—
“Not talking about that today,” he said apologetically. “For various reasons, I prefer another psychologist. I haven’t had a chance to submit the application to Director Hao yet, so…”
Di Junya swallowed a mouthful of coffee, the bitterness spreading from his tongue to his chest.
He was used to Shen Leyuan defying expectations and didn’t even have the energy to get mad. He smiled faintly. “Mind sharing the reason?”
Shen Leyuan: “Sorry, can’t.”
Di Junya frowned and sighed. “I hope you get what you want, but among all the monitors in our department, I’m the best fit for you. Your superiors might not approve the switch.”
He gazed at Shen Leyuan and offered a thoughtful suggestion. “Maybe you could have two monitors.”
Shen Leyuan pondered it and thought it wasn’t a bad idea.
It was at least a modest victory. Di Junya didn’t press further, politely taking his leave before Shen Leyuan could grow resistant, and they agreed to meet again tomorrow.
Humming a tune as he slid into his new car, he pulled out his phone.
A new message had arrived a minute ago—from Hao Mingrui. That overly kind director had been blocking his access to Shen Leyuan lately for some reason.
Tsk tsk. Probably another attempt to talk me out of it.
He opened it, and his smile vanished in an instant.
A neatly filled application form appeared before him, freshly sent by Shen Leyuan. It stated that, to evaluate his appeal to certain individuals, he was requesting to cohabitate with 【Di Junya】 for one month.
Perfect, Di Junya thought expressionlessly. So where does one learn cloning?
For now, only Hao Mingrui knew about his cross-dressing.
He laughed uproariously. He wanted to tell Lin Yuan but couldn’t without complications, and chatting with his wife wasn’t ideal either. In the end, he went to harass his superior, casually mentioning as he submitted the form, “Whenever Little Di shows up, the cat doctor vanishes. That doesn’t sit right, does it?”
Superior: 【?】
Hao Mingrui sent photos: 【[Image] This is our Little Di. [Image] This is our cat doctor.】
Superior: 【??】
Superior: 【Kids these days?】
Superior: 【I can’t control private lives, but work can’t be this sloppy. This Di Junya—I need to have a word with him!】
Hao Mingrui: …Oh no, we’re doomed.
That night, Di Junya got scolded mercilessly. He struggled to explain that the cross-dressing was for work, only to earn another round of reprimands.
“You’re a monitor, not a con artist!”
“You can’t deceive someone’s feelings—especially when he’s not just your surveillance target, but a colleague!”
“Don’t give me that ‘it’s for work’ excuse. Sure, you’re the best fit for his new monitor, but it didn’t have to be you from the start. And I even told you it was fine to reveal your identity—you didn’t!”
The sweet-talking but scheming Di Junya had never been chewed out so harshly before.
Shen Leyuan totally jinxes me.
That night, the basement gained more surveillance footage and photos. Di Junya stared at the image of the young man, his face grim as he vowed to seize the other’s heart and make him bare every secret.
He pushed open the door to leave, then returned moments later.
—This time, to deliver Little Deer’s surveillance footage, which he’d accidentally forgotten.
The prison cell stood empty.
The boy hugged his knees on the bed, sitting in a daze as he listened to the recording.
The little cake he’d previously tossed on the floor had been eaten clean. He barely touched the food delivered afterward, and in just a few short days, he’d lost a full circle of weight, looking even more frail and delicate.
“You didn’t tell me… It’s all your fault for not telling me…”
He choked up, viciously biting his own wrist. You never said you’d prepared such a great reward for me. You said I didn’t need to be too obedient.
I know it was wrong to lash out at Daddy. I’ve prepared myself for punishment.
But… how could the punishment be this?
Shouldn’t it be you punishing me?
You said punishment should match the crime. I only wanted to kill Daddy—was that such a grave sin that you don’t like me anymore?
Just a few days without seeing his teacher felt like a lifetime. Hunger shadowed his every moment—what he ate brought no sense of fullness.
That wasn’t his food.
Neurotically gnawing his fingers until they nearly bled, his choked sobs turned into tearful whimpers. “So hungry… Teacher…”
The surveillance footage was transcribed into text and placed on the monitors’ desks.
A more seasoned monitor hesitated slightly. “At this rate, his body won’t hold out. Should we let his teacher try?”
To cover his tracks, he added an excuse. “It’d be a good test of Mr. Shen’s unique talents—see if Little Deer can tell it’s his cooking.”
Since it was a personal request, Shen Leyuan rejected the application and told them to get superior approval first.
Perhaps deeming it too time-consuming, that monitor didn’t submit it. Instead, he portioned out one of Shen Leyuan’s special patient meals and sent it to the prison.
Little Deer wolfed it down, then stared pitifully at the camera. “Hungry…”
He said, “More!”
Shen Leyuan hadn’t been visiting the wards much lately. When he did, he avoided Lin Yuan, sitting only briefly with the two young men to chat.
On days he skipped, the patient meals were delivered by bodyguards.
Lin Yao was obsessed with flaunting Teacher’s affection in their small group chat. Since everyone got the meals, he focused on the post-meal fruits—bragging about how perfectly Teacher peeled them or posting the orange he’d peeled for Teacher.
But with Little Deer gone, no one to envy him, it felt pointless.
【@Sheng Shisi, spill—how’s Little Deer doing now?】
【@Sheng Shisi, I told you your ‘like’ needs some edge. Learned your lesson?】
【@Sheng Shisi, wanna sneak a visit to Little Deer? You in?】
The next second, Sheng Shisi left the group.
Lin Yao blinked in slight shock, belatedly realizing he’d poked at A Si’s sore spot.
—”I can only speak for myself in forgiving you. You’re not the only one hurt by your rebellion. Etch that into your heart and never repeat it.”
Teacher’s admonition still rang in his ears.
The young man uncomfortably rubbed his face and messaged a bodyguard: 【Which room is A Si in?】
While waiting for a reply, he stared blankly at the empty group chat.
On a whim, he tapped through his phone and created a new group: just him, Sheng Shisi, and Lin Yuan.
Group name: 【Old Fart and Two Young Guns】
After pulling them in, he habitually changed his own display name to “Orphan” and teased the old guy: 【Hey, lonely geezer. Teacher hasn’t visited you lately, huh?】
Lin Yuan: 【?】
Lin Yuan: 【What’s with the name?】
Lin Yuan: 【Change it.】
Lin Yao twitched his lips, itching to mock the guy for acting like his dad when he wasn’t.
Before he could type, the old fart said: 【Drop the “mother” part.】
Lin Yuan: 【Don’t curse your mom.】
![I Am the Tragic Supporting Character Who Was Saved [Quick Transmigration]](https://i2.wp.com/dobynovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/on.jpg?resize=151,215 "I Am the Tragic Supporting Character Who Was Saved [Quick Transmigration]")
