Chapter 3: Chapter 3 - The Evil of the Ye Residence

Yang Ruo woke up at her usual time the next morning. Despite going to bed late, she couldn’t sleep in—her internal clock wouldn’t let her. Daytime was simply not made for sleep.

Rubbing her throbbing temples, she got up with a sigh. Since sleep wasn’t happening anyway, she might as well go fulfill the promise she made to Tan Jin last night and find a doctor to check his condition and make sure the root of the illness was taken care of.

Since she still wasn’t familiar with the Ye residence, she needed Chun Tao’s help.

There wasn’t an in-house physician at the manor, so she and Chun Tao went out and brought back a doctor from Shanchuntang, a reputable clinic in the city.

But Tan Jin was nowhere to be found.

Chun Tao said, “Unless he’s being punished, the young master usually goes to the library to copy scriptures. He probably went there early this morning.”

Yang Ruo remembered the original plot; it had indeed happened that way. She couldn’t help but respect him a little. Fever barely gone, and he’s already hitting the books?

Even if she knew the real reason he went was to mess around with his demonic “friends” in a quiet corner, still, he had way more discipline and goals than she ever did.

She said, “Where’s the library? I’ll go find him.”

Also, she wanted to memorize the location. Who knew? Maybe she could sneak off and study there sometime. In this unfamiliar world, with zero professional skills or survival knowledge, that thought alone made her anxious.

After Chun Tao led her to the building, she stopped at the door. “Miss, this is it.”

Yang Ruo raised an eyebrow and deliberately made a bit of noise, just loud enough to give Tan Jin a heads-up to hide his crows or whatever demonic thing he was up to inside.

She had no desire to stumble into a murder scene and get silenced.

After waiting a beat, enough time for him to clean up, she pushed the door open.

She immediately saw Tan Jin kneeling in front of a low table, quietly copying scriptures.

His pale, frail frame looked thin to the point of vanishing, like a skeleton draped in a sheet of skin. Sunlight poured onto his body, and it seemed as though he might dissolve right into it.

Yang Ruo walked over. “The doctor’s here. Come get checked.”

Tan Jin didn’t respond at first. Then he glanced at her briefly, turned back to the scripture, and kept copying.

After a long pause, he said coldly, “Why play the saint, Second Miss? With your behavior shifting so wildly, aren’t you afraid that people will start to suspect something?”

Yang Ruo choked. Yep. There it is. That’s the little demon prince we know.

This guy’s spent his whole life being mistreated. Of course, he’d reject kindness, hardwired to push people away. Which made sense. If he’d been even a little more naive or soft, he’d be dead by now.

So she said, “Look, I already paid for the doctor. If you don’t go, then you'd better be ready to pay me back.”

If kindness didn’t work, what about a little financial threat?

Tan Jin paused his writing. “With the Second Miss’s power, wouldn’t getting your money back be a walk in the park?”

Yang Ruo started wondering if this guy was messing with her on purpose. In the original plot, did he sass Ye Xiwu like this, too?

She was annoyed, but understood this was just how Tan Jin had learned to survive.

“Hmph. That’s right, I’ve got power. So I’m ordering you to go get checked. Are you going or not?” she snapped.

She’d resort to force if she had to.

“Your command, Second Miss. I dare not disobey.”

Tan Jin stood up and brushed past her without emotion.

He’d forced her into giving an order on purpose—so that the favor wouldn’t count. He wasn’t obeying out of gratitude, only because he was being coerced. That way, when the time came to destroy her, he wouldn’t feel a shred of guilt.

Tan Jin had already started re-running the last life in his mind and plotting the new one.

This time—he’d have no weaknesses.

Yang Ruo followed him back to the courtyard. The doctor gave him a full exam, prescribed a few doses of medicine, and left.

Tan Jin, cold as ever, tried to walk away.

But Yang Ruo stopped him. “Hold on.”

He turned around. Those emotionless eyes locked on her, and Yang Ruo suddenly felt like she was staring into a depth of darkness she couldn’t begin to understand.

She wasn’t Li Susu. She didn’t know if her methods could ever touch that cold, hardened heart of his.

But fortunately, she wasn’t here to win his heart. She just… didn’t think he should suffer like this.

Helping him wasn’t just for his sake; it was also her way of resisting the unjust fate crafted by the so-called god who wrote Tan Jin’s tragedy.

Who gave a being the right to create life, only to toy with and torment it? That kind of arrogance was disgusting.

Even a god shouldn't be so full of themself.

She couldn’t stand it.

She wanted to derail the plan. Rip control from the hands of that smug deity.

“Don’t go to the main kitchen today,” she said.

Tan Jin raised an eyebrow, seemingly puzzled. But then his expression relaxed.

If he remembered correctly, on this very day in the previous timeline, he had gone to the main kitchen and been humiliated by the servants.

So why would she say this now?

Is it because she knew what would happen?

Could it be… Ye Xiwu, you’ve been reborn, too?

He studied this “Ye Xiwu” in front of him with a deeper suspicion.

She was being nice now only to gain his trust before killing him later. How vile. And to think he had fallen for it in the past.

After hearing enough of his sharp tongue yesterday, Yang Ruo didn’t give him a chance to fire back. In the original storyline, Li Susu had also been chewed out by him at this point—and she wasn’t about to sit through that again.

So she jumped in first:

“You’ll still get your meals. Chun Tao will bring food from the main kitchen. For the next few days, that’s how you’ll handle your three meals.”

Then, just in case he felt like being difficult, she added, “That’s an order.”

Tan Jin had a rebellious streak. Be kind, and he’d bite your hand. Press him down hard enough, and he'd finally comply.

Yang Ruo prided herself on knowing his temperament down to the bone.

Tan Jin stared at her, as if trying to bore a hole through her. She was clever, turning kindness into command so he wouldn’t owe her anything.

Fine.

He had no reason to refuse. If it wasn’t a favor, then he didn’t have to feel anything about it.

He gave a cold nod and walked away.

After he left, Yang Ruo still had time, so she had Chun Tao take her to visit her grandmother, the most respected woman in the entire Ye Manor, to get approval for one thing:

Instead of always sending Chun Tao to fetch meals for Tan Jin and forcing him to rely on others for food, why not… set up a small kitchen in her own courtyard?

That way, he could feed himself.

All the ingredients would still come from the main kitchen’s supply. She’d make it clear to Grandmother: any additional expenses would be deducted from her own allowance.

Once she sorted out Tan Jin’s meals, she felt like a weight had lifted from her chest.

Really, all Tan Jin ever wanted was to survive.

If his destiny was to encounter endless cruelty out there, then she’d make sure that at least during his time in the Ye Manor, under her wing, he could live without needing to beg or bow for basic needs.

Maybe, just maybe, if he no longer had to scrape by just to eat… He might start to feel a little less hate for the world.

The wounds of the past were already carved too deeply for her to erase. But at the very least, during this chapter of his life, she could shield him from some of the ugliness.

She couldn't scold the servants for bullying him; she didn’t have the standing for that.

After all, her own kindness only existed because she was born into a relatively good time, into a life with enough material comfort that she never had to suffer to survive.

Compared to most people in this world, she had it easy.

So no, she couldn’t judge them for being petty or mean.

Her moral compass was a luxury they didn’t have.

Some people are foolish because they never got the chance to become wise. Some do bad things because they never had the conditions to be good.

You can't expect too much from people like that.

That’s what she reminded herself.

And as for Tan Jin’s coldness? So what?

Was she doing all this for a “thank you”?

No. She already felt full just from the act of doing good. That satisfaction was enough.

She wouldn’t demand anything more.

She wouldn’t blame Tan Jin for his cruelty. She wouldn’t even blame the servants for theirs.

Because blame meant nothing.

The only thing that mattered was this: when everyone’s life gets better, only then will the good start to take root.