The ride to Dragon Bay was suffocatingly quiet.
Sitting in the back of the Maybach, Su Qingran kept her posture perfectly straight, her hands clutching her designer handbag like it was a shield. She kept stealing glances at me through the reflection in the tinted window.
She was waiting for the other shoe to drop. She was waiting for the arrogant, lecherous Chu Feng to suddenly demand she "repay" him for saving her from her grandfather's insane arrangement.
I didn't say a single word. I casually flipped through a tablet, reviewing the Chu Consortium's quarterly tech acquisitions.
"Mr. Chu. Miss Su. We have arrived," Old Chen announced as the Maybach glided through the massive wrought-iron gates of Dragon Bay, the most exclusive residential district in Jinghai City.
The car pulled up to a sprawling, modernist mansion overlooking the ocean. It was three stories of glass, steel, and dark wood, surrounded by manicured gardens.
I stepped out and handed my tablet to a waiting maid. Su Qingran followed, her heels clicking softly against the pristine marble driveway. She looked at the massive house, swallowing hard.
"Come inside. The ocean breeze is freezing tonight," I said, walking ahead of her.
As we stepped into the grand foyer, Su Qingran finally broke the silence. She dropped her bag on a side table and crossed her arms defensively.
"Alright, Chu Feng," she said, her voice tight but trying to project the authority of an Ice CEO. "You forced my grandfather's hand. I'm here. I'll play the part of the devoted fiancée for the paparazzi and your shareholders. But I am setting boundaries right now. I want my own room, my own bathroom, and—"
"Maria," I cut her off smoothly, not even looking at her as I addressed the head maid. "Take Miss Su to the East Wing master suite. Make sure her closet is stocked with her preferred designers by tomorrow morning."
Maria bowed respectfully. "Right away, Young Master."
Su Qingran blinked, the defensive speech dying in her throat. "The East Wing? Where is your room?"
"The West Wing," I replied flatly, unbuttoning my cuffs. "On the opposite side of the estate. You have your own private balcony, a personal study, and a locked door. Like I told you in the car, Qingran: we are business partners. I have zero interest in forcing myself on a woman who doesn't want me."
I turned and started walking toward the sweeping glass staircase.
"Wait," she called out, genuinely thrown off balance. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to push her boundaries, and she was supposed to fiercely defend her virtue. By giving her exactly what she wanted with absolute indifference, I had entirely flipped the power dynamic.
[Ding!] [Su Qingran is experiencing profound confusion and growing respect!] [She is realizing you are a man of your word. Affection +10! Current Affection: 65 (Deeply Intrigued).]
I paused on the first step and looked back over my shoulder. "Yes?"
She opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly winced, bringing a pale hand up to massage her right temple. A subtle, pained hiss escaped her lips.
With my newly acquired Divine Tier Medical Mastery, the system practically highlighted the problem for me. I didn't just see a tired woman; I saw the exact flow of her internal energy.
Severe cervical strain, my medical knowledge diagnosed instantly. Compression of the vertebral artery from chronic stress and poor sleeping posture, leading to acute migraines and Qi stagnation.
In the original novel, the protagonist Lin Tian was supposed to notice this during a board meeting, sneak up behind her, and use his magical hands to cure her, sparking her first real feelings for him.
Too bad, I thought, walking back down the stairs toward her. That plotline is mine now.
"What are you doing?" she asked, her eyes widening slightly as I closed the distance between us.
"Sit down," I ordered, my voice dropping into a tone of unquestionable authority. I gestured to the plush leather sofa in the center of the foyer.
"I just have a headache, Chu Feng, I don't need—"
"Sit."
Maybe it was the sheer command in my voice, or maybe she was just too exhausted from the family drama, but she actually listened. She perched stiffly on the edge of the sofa.
I stepped behind her. "Take a deep breath."
Before she could protest, I placed both of my hands firmly on her shoulders.
She flinched violently at the contact. But I didn't linger in a creepy or suggestive way. I immediately pressed my thumbs deep into the Jianjing acupoints at the base of her neck. Channeling a tiny, microscopic thread of my internal Qi, I began to knead the knotted, stone-hard muscles.
"Ah!" she gasped, her hands gripping her knees. "That... that hurts!"
"It hurts because your cervical spine is severely inflamed from working eighty-hour weeks and carrying your family's collapsing company on your back," I said, my voice low and close to her ear. I shifted my thumbs, moving up to the Fengchi points at the base of her skull. "Breathe out, Qingran. Relax your shoulders. Let me do the work."
I applied a precise, calculated burst of warm Qi directly into the tense muscles.
Su Qingran let out a soft, involuntary moan.
The pain vanished instantly. It was replaced by a rush of absolute, intoxicating warmth that spread from her neck all the way down to her toes. The crushing, suffocating pressure she had carried in her head for the past three years melted away in a matter of seconds.
Her rigid posture collapsed. She leaned back, her head resting instinctively against my abdomen as my fingers expertly worked away the last of her stress. Her eyes fluttered shut, her breathing evening out.
For a solid minute, the only sound in the massive foyer was her soft, relaxed breathing.
I pulled my hands away and took a step back.
The sudden loss of contact made her eyes snap open. She looked up at me, her cheeks flushed a vibrant, beautiful pink. The icy CEO mask was completely shattered. She looked vulnerable, amazed, and profoundly confused.
"How..." she whispered, touching her own neck. "I've seen top specialists in Beijing for that migraine. None of them could fix it. How did you do that?"
"I told you," I said smoothly, sliding my hands into my pockets. "I'm not the man you thought I was. Get some sleep, Qingran. Tomorrow, we go to war with your grandfather's board of directors."
I didn't wait for her to thank me. I turned and walked up the stairs, leaving her sitting alone on the sofa, staring at my back as if she were seeing me for the very first time.
[Ding! Major Plot Deviation!] [The Host has completely stolen the Protagonist's 'Medical Savior' plotline!] [Su Qingran's Affection +20! Current Affection: 85 (Infatuated/Smitten).] [Host gains 500 Villain Points!]
I smirked as I walked down the West Wing hallway. At 85 Affection, she was officially locked in. Lin Tian could come back from the dead, and she wouldn't even look twice at him.
But as I reached my bedroom door, the system's tone suddenly shifted from its usual cheerful chime to a blaring, sinister red alarm.
[WARNING!] [The Heavenly Dao is resisting the Host's influence!] [Protagonist Lin Tian, currently in the Central Precinct Holding Cell, has experienced a 'Desperation Awakening'!] [Due to extreme physical trauma and the loss of his medical inheritance, the Protagonist's dormant 'Ancient Demonic Bloodline' has forcefully awakened!] [Alert: Lin Tian has broken out of his cell and slaughtered three guards. He is currently fleeing into the city's underground.] [New System Mission: Hunt down the Demonic Protagonist before he can rebuild his power base!]
I pushed open my bedroom door, my eyes narrowing into a dangerous squint.
A Demonic Bloodline? I chuckled darkly, pouring myself a glass of bourbon from the decanter on my desk. The author really loved pulling secondary cheats out of thin air when the hero was backed into a corner.
"So, the divine doctor becomes a demon," I muttered to the empty room, taking a sip of the burning liquid. "Fine. It just means I don't have to hold back when I put you in the ground."