"The police are on their way. You'd better stay put!" Sylvia shot a glare at the few black-clad men sprawled messily on the ground.
She could've beaten them up even more, but picking on the weak only invites trouble later. Better to let the police teach them a proper lesson.
Then, Sylvia looked over at the guy they had been bullying.
And paused.
What a beautiful man.
She'd been in the entertainment industry for years and had seen her fair share of good-looking men—but none quite like him.
He had stunning bone structure and a razor-sharp jawline. His face was downright divine.
Having just been held underwater, his skin was pale and his eyes slightly red at the corners. Wet strands of hair clung to his face, glistening with water droplets. The whole image gave off a fragile, heart-wrenching beauty.
Totally her type.
"I'm fine," Asher said, noticing her stare.His voice was cool, like polished jade.
"Miss, this is a misunderstanding. We were just..."
Filming! One of the men, still lying on the ground, tried to explain.
He looked at Sylvia with awe—this woman had lifted him like he was a rag doll. First time in his life.
Terrifying.
Sylvia glanced at the burly men, then at the fragile-looking guy they had been ganging up on. Her temper flared.
"Misunderstanding my ass!" She shot them a deadly glare. "Save that for the police!"
Silence.
No one dared say another word.
Once they quieted down, Sylvia turned her attention back to the pretty boy.
Asher looked back at her, standing protectively in front of him like a lioness guarding her cub.
Maybe it was the adrenaline, but her delicate face was tinged with pink—full of life.
A hint of amusement flickered in his eyes.
One of the men, clearly the leader, gathered the courage to speak up. "We, uh... we were just—"
"Haven't left yet? Waiting for the cops?" Asher cut in coldly.
The men froze.They didn't get why their boss didn't want them to explain, but after working with Asher this long, they knew when to shut up.
And so, beaten and confused, they fled.
Sylvia looked reluctant to let them go, but just as she moved, a cool hand gently held her back.
"No need to chase," Asher said.
"But what if they come back to bother you again?" Sylvia frowned.
She might've saved him this time, but who knows about the next?
Asher glanced at her. "You... don't recognize me?"
Sylvia: Uh-oh. Did the original host know him? Were they friends?
In a split second, a million thoughts raced through her head.
Should she fake amnesia? Make a run for it?
Luckily, he didn't seem to care about her answer. He just smiled faintly. "You helped me earlier. I thought you knew who I was."
Ah—so he didn't recognize her either.
"Nope. Just a stranger lending a hand," Sylvia replied, patting him on the shoulder.
She noticed his slight frown and quickly pulled her hand back.
Oops. Maybe she was being too friendly. He didn't seem like someone who liked physical contact.
Blame it on his face—it was so much her type that she subconsciously treated him like one of her favorite 2D characters.
After all, this was a world created from a novel. Every character here—lead, supporting, even background extras—were like paper cutouts to her.
Naturally, just like with any show or book, there are characters you like... and ones you don't.
"Sorry," Sylvia apologized right away, mentally reminding herself to treat this world like it's real.
Asher noticed her misunderstanding and lowered his gaze. "I just meant... your hand is injured."
Sylvia blinked and looked down. Her hand was swollen and red, and only now did the pain set in.
She hadn't realized how fragile the original host's body was.
Back in her world, she'd been the entertainment industry's last true action queen. Diving, horse-riding, weapons—she did all her own stunts.
Her agent used to freak out every time she took on risky scenes, scared she'd get hurt.
But she was tough. Even if she got hurt, the other guy always got it worse. :)
"It's fine," Sylvia said casually, brushing off her hand.
Then she remembered: "So... who were those guys? Will they come back?"
If she had known earlier that this pretty boy didn't want the police involved, she would've kicked those thugs a few more times while she had the chance.
Asher looked at her concerned gaze and said after a pause, "I don't know them. Might've been sent by a competitor."
Sylvia felt a twinge of sympathy. She thought of her older brother. After their parents passed away, he had to take over the family business while still young.
Back then, their rivals constantly tried to sabotage him.
Only once did they target her directly—when someone tried to kidnap her in middle school. It was the first time she saw her usually composed brother lose it.
After that, he hired top international bodyguards and had her trained in martial arts.
Thinking of her past life made Sylvia lose the mood to linger outside.
She just wanted to go back to the original host's apartment and figure out how to return to her own world.
"Alright. Take care then. I'm heading off," Sylvia said.
"Wait," Asher called out. "Your cake got ruined. Let me make it up to you."
Only then did Sylvia remember—the cake she'd been carrying got completely smashed when she rushed to help him.
"Well... if we ever meet again, you can pay me back then." She smiled.
Asher chuckled and looked her in the eye. "Deal. It's a promise."
Sylvia shrugged. She didn't take it seriously. Wucheng wasn't that big, but it wasn't small either. What were the odds of two strangers running into each other again?
Besides, who knows—maybe one day she'd just magically return home.
She waved goodbye and left.
Asher watched her until she disappeared, then finally looked away.
"Ash!" a frantic figure ran over.
"I heard from Sam that some violent girl showed up! Was it a stalker fan? Did she harass you?!"
Asher returned to his usual calm. "I'm fine."
Bill looked him over, panicking like Asher had just returned from war.
"Ash, it was just one scene! You didn't need to get that into character! Why let the guards push you into real drowning just to feel the role?! You could've used a stunt double..."
Asher stayed silent.
Bill was full of emotion. How did he, of all people, become the manager of this living legend?
Looks, talent, work ethic—all top tier. In just five years, Asher had swept all the Best Actor awards, both domestic and international. A legend. An untouchable icon.
And only 25.
If Asher had agreed, the company would've worshipped him like a god!
"Oh right, didn't Director Qin invite me onto Love on a Timer? Accept it," Asher said.
"Sure, sure—wait, WHAT?!"
The actor who never did variety shows... joining a dating show?!
What the hell just happened?!
"Ge! Sylvia's on that show! Remember that clout-chasing sticky gum who always claimed to be your fan? If this is your variety debut, we need to take it seriously..."
Before he could finish, Asher gave him one icy look.
Bill instantly shut up.
"Fine," he muttered. But when the time comes, he swore he'd protect his ge and never give Sylvia that clingy fan any chance!
Meanwhile, Sylvia had no idea she'd just been branded a public menace.
Nor did she know how close she'd come to blowing her cover.
At that moment, she was frowning at her phone.
She had just gotten home when she received six huge bank transfers, all from different contacts.
Even in her past life as a billionaire heiress, Sylvia was a bit shaken.
Who the heck were these people?!
The original host hadn't left any notes for them. Their chats were cold and impersonal—just transaction after transaction. Some even sounded like business deals.
It was clear: the original had a bad relationship with all of them.
Then she remembered the scandal in the original novel—how people accused the original Sylvia of being a kept woman, saying she had a bunch of sugar daddies...
Back then, Sylvia assumed that was just a smear campaign.
But now—with these six transfers?
This wasn't a rumor. This was evidence.
Six at once?! Even a time-management guru would need to take notes from the original Sylvia.
Without blinking, Sylvia blocked all of them.
Now that she was in charge, she was cutting off all sugar daddy ties. Clean slate.
Hopefully, they'd get the message and stop bothering her.
Then—her phone rang. A call from an unmarked number.
Sylvia tensed.Was it one of those sugar daddies calling to confront her after being blocked?
She raised an eyebrow and answered. Bring it on. She'd died once already—what was there to fear?
Next second—
A deafening voice blasted through the speaker, sharp enough to pierce her eardrum:
"Sylvia!!! You little brat!!!"