Shen Leyuan didn’t reply to Lin Yuan.
Because Lin Yao suddenly burst through the door, shoved Huo Tingfeng away hard, and shoved his own head under Shen Leyuan’s hand, saying pitifully, “Teacher, don’t keep him. Keep me!”
Shen Leyuan: …
He silently withdrew his hand and said disgustedly, “Both of you, shut up!”
He turned his back, pretending to rest. He didn’t see the spark-filled glare exchanged between the two, nor did he see Huo Tingfeng deliberately limp back to bed, as if some spot between his legs had suffered a severe injury.
As for whether the injured part was his ass or his balls, Lin Yao had no experience and couldn’t tell.
The young man said incredulously, “You—you two last night…”
Huo Tingfeng: “An accident.”
Shen Leyuan perked up his ears to listen. Hearing this, his face burned again as he recalled the feel of yesterday’s touch in his palm, the words he’d said, and the fact that the boss might have heard the entire process—possibly even with a backup recording.
No, I have to coax the boss into deleting the backup, he thought.
But when he opened his phone, the first thing he saw was that last sour, jealous message, which made him even more embarrassed.
After thinking it over, he replied: 【Yes】
It wasn’t true, though. He just wanted to use this chance to gently turn the boss down.
Lin Yuan had waited a long time, only to receive this single word that cleanly sentenced him to death. His vision blurred.
He looked up at his reflection in the mirror.
He was standing.
Straight, slender, powerful legs; handsome features; skin that wasn’t overly pale—he’d shaped himself into the kind of man his wife would like.
He’d also shaped others into the kind his wife would like.
Like Lin Yao. Like Huo Tingfeng.
They’d agreed to meet tomorrow, but Lin Yuan couldn’t wait—he wanted to see Shen Leyuan today, to tell him everything about their past life, how much they’d trusted each other back then, how loving and sweet they’d been.
But he clenched his fist and forced himself to hold back.
His lover wasn’t the type to change his mind over vague memories. He’d only consider it rationally, reject him directly, completely separate their past and present lives, and urge him to let go.
See how well I know my wife.
After picking out tomorrow’s outfit, Lin Yuan lay back on the bed and forced his eyes shut to rest.
Tomorrow, tell the wife about the rebirth to gain his trust—but don’t reveal their past relationship, and keep distance, or he’ll pull away.
Just like in the beginning of their past life, how he treated Huo Tingfeng and Di Junya.
He fell asleep quickly, his body heavy and heart aching. Nightmares plagued him relentlessly, and at one point, he suddenly opened his eyes, clarity and confusion mingling in his gaze.
Little Deer shot me a few times, but I’m not dead?
Some other memory seemed to roil in his mind, hazy as if seen through fog.
The special alert chime rang. Lin Yuan looked over.
Wife: 【Sorry, you’re a good person, but we’re really not right for each other. Friends?】
Lin Yuan: ?
He bolted upright. The powerful sensation in his legs made his face twist horribly.
Without calling for his bodyguards, he headed straight to the underground Monitoring Room. He pulled up the surveillance footage from this period, skimmed some, then deftly accessed a hidden template packed full of videos, neatly categorized.
【Business】
【Personal】
He should open the business folder first, but Lin Yuan’s hand moved on its own, smoothly clicking into 【Personal】.
The personal folder was full of business videos.
He stared blankly for a moment, but instead of trying the other folder, he typed in a code based on his self-knowledge and successfully searched out a folder named 【Me and My Wife】.
Clicking it open revealed subfolders: Past, Present, and Future.
The past was their sweet past. The present was the messy present. The future was someone else’s prepared future.
“Don’t confess—he’ll run.”
“Tell him you feed on emotions and desire—he’ll try to feed you.”
“Help him quit as inspector—he hates it.”
Lin Yuan didn’t listen further. He rewound to that line and replayed it, thinking: If I feed on emotions and desire, what the hell am I?
He clicked into the business folder and watched all day.
The next day, they met at a café near the hospital. Shen Leyuan arrived ten minutes early and chatted on his phone with Glasses Guy, asking him to request leave from the professor.
The door opened. He set down his phone and looked up.
The boss sat in his wheelchair, dressed conservatively, expression steady. It made Shen Leyuan feel…
“You—” He paused, then probed, “Sir, are you alright?”
Lin Yuan: “Mm.”
He was a bit distracted, thinking of all that “past life” stuff. Those sweet narrations were like honey laced with arsenic—completely opposite reality.
“Getting his trust is so simple, yet you push him away.” The voice in the video mocked maliciously. “You’re unworthy.”
Unworthy of what?
Unworthy of everything.
Shen Leyuan didn’t notice the boss zoning out. He just felt the man seemed “normal” now—no trace of that subtle aggression from before. Curious what happened, but the boss didn’t seem inclined to say, so he didn’t ask. Instead, he placed the freshly printed A4 paper on the table.
“Mr. Lin, this is some info I compiled but haven’t had time to share.” He said, troubled, “I’m torn about reporting it to my superiors.”
Lin Yuan looked down. The first item was speculation about the Three Thousand Worlds, and Shen Leyuan’s approximate past life situation.
Shen Leyuan figured the authorities must have their suspicions anyway—his disguises weren’t airtight, and the junior cops looked at him like he was the principal.
Lin Yuan’s fingers hovered over the A4 paper. He stared at Shen Leyuan and asked, “Why not tell Director Hao? Don’t trust him?”
Does that mean he trusts me more?
“No,” Shen Leyuan said. “But isn’t he on the special watchlist too?” What difference did it make going to him versus his direct superior, aside from the time lag?
So he trusts Hao Mingrui more.
Lin Yuan smoothed out the creases he’d put in the paper and asked gravely, “Do you like being a teacher, or an inspector?”
Shen Leyuan gave a bitter laugh. “Don’t ask such a depressing question, okay?”
As if I have a choice.
Lin Yuan said flatly, “I understand.”
He pocketed the stack of A4 papers and maneuvered his wheelchair toward the private room door. “We’ll meet again another day. I’ll talk to Hao Mingrui about this.”
Huh? Leaving so soon?
As the boss pushed the door open, Shen Leyuan jumped up, grabbed the back of the wheelchair, and demanded, “Talk about what? What do you mean? I can quit as inspector? What’s the price?”
For some reason, panic gripped him in that moment.
If I let Lin Yuan leave today, I’ll never see him again in this lifetime.
Lin Yuan halted stiffly. “No price.”
Shen Leyuan yanked the still-rolling wheelchair back and shoved it into the corner. He dragged over a chair, sat, and stretched his legs to block the wheels, saying fiercely, “Explain!”
Lin Yuan trembled almost imperceptibly.
He stayed silent.
Shen Leyuan recalled everything he’d learned lately, piecing together the boss’s mindset.
This was an overly rational man who’d spent years protecting this world. He was calmly extreme, hating all monsters—until the day he realized he was one…
Shen Leyuan: “You’re not thinking of exiling yourself, are you?”
Shen Leyuan: “Lock yourself up with Little Deer? Maybe toss in Di Junya or Lin Yao too—and if possible, take Huo Tingfeng along—then you all go live out your days in some uninhabited wasteland, while I happily and easily go back to being a teacher?”
Lin Yuan said nothing, but the silence was admission enough.
Shen Leyuan still felt something was off.
Little Deer’s influence could only be restrained by him, or the boss wouldn’t have given up his old job. This plan couldn’t exclude him unless…
He suddenly pulled out his phone and called Director Hao right in front of Lin Yuan.
“Director Hao,” he cut straight to it, “has Lin Yuan told you how to deal with Little Deer? What is it?”
Hao Mingrui gave a dry laugh. “Nope.”
Shen Leyuan didn’t care what Hao said. He stared at Lin Yuan’s face, hung up expressionlessly, then leaned in close and pinched the man’s chin, enunciating, “Mr. Lin, did you know you just panicked?”
“Let me guess. Since you’re all ‘nutrients,’ it must be that you all have to die—completely cutting off his supply—to kill him, right?”
Lin Yuan refuted calmly, “No…”
Shen Leyuan: “One chance to rephrase. You know I hate being lied to.”
Lin Yuan fell silent again.
Shen Leyuan said angrily, “Did you get permission from me to kill my dog and my student?”
Lin Yuan avoided his gaze, lowering his eyes in silent resistance.
Without warning, fat teardrops fell onto his hand. The young man’s choked voice rang out: “Did you get my permission to kill yourself for my sake?”
“You want me to never forget you my whole life, is that it?”
“On what basis?” Shen Leyuan demanded. “On what basis do you get to plan my future?”
Lin Yuan stiffly lifted his head to wipe his tears. “Don’t cry…”
“I’m crying!”
Shen Leyuan dodged his hand and gritted out, “Yeah, I hate being an inspector, but I don’t hate you all! I want to save you, save everyone—I’m trying, I haven’t given up. Why are you giving up on yourself?”
“I am…” Lin Yuan tried to explain.
“Fuck being a monster!” Shen Leyuan grabbed his collar. “If you’re a monster, what am I? The cage locking up monsters? Slow-acting poison to kill them? A monster’s byproduct?”
Lin Yuan paled. “You’re not.”
Shen Leyuan: “Then neither are you!”
His emotions exploded, chest heaving with each breath. Only after a long while did he release Lin Yuan, exhausted. “No matter what, we’ll be tied together for the rest of our lives. So stop hiding your worries from me, okay?”
With that, he picked up the A4 papers. “Everything I had to say is in there. I’ve been honest. Where’s your honesty?”
A long time later, Lin Yuan said slowly, “The person you’ve been dealing with lately… wasn’t me.”
Shen Leyuan froze.
Lin Yuan continued, “There’s this world where Little Deer was never properly tamed. He needs constant watching, constantly bothering you—forcing you to stay bound to monsters, forced to feed them.”
“Then one day, you said you wanted to go home and visit…”
Without warning, immense grief surged. Lin Yuan wept silently: “That you… never came back.”
![Love-Struck Brain? Mind Your Own Business! [Showbiz]](https://i3.wp.com/dobynovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/20.jpeg?resize=151,215 "Love-Struck Brain? Mind Your Own Business! [Showbiz]")
