The Deeply Concealed Underworld Princess: Scheming, Aloof, and Stubborn

The girl remained unusually silent the entire way.

She kept wondering whether Ye Cheng had imagined a big yellow dog in his mind when he reset her bone earlier.

Contrary to her expectations,

the girl had assumed that the walk to the infirmary would be a perfect opportunity for some intimate contact—most people wouldn’t pass up such a chance and would try to prolong the journey.

They’d probably say annoying things along the way.

But Ye Cheng didn’t.

Once she stopped talking, he fell silent too, only responding when she asked him something directly.

Seeing that there was still some distance left, the girl couldn’t hold back any longer.

"Do you like Dongfang Zhixia?"

"Huh? Who, me?"

Ye Cheng stopped in his tracks, twisting his head to look around. The place was empty.

Shen Qinghan: "..."

The vast campus showed no sign of anyone else besides the two of them.

Today was new student registration day—upperclassmen hadn’t returned yet and wouldn’t for a few more days.

Right now, all the freshmen were attending the orientation ceremony in the auditorium, too intimidated by Dongfang Zhixia to slip away.

Ye Cheng was an exception, a natural-born rebel who’d somehow outplayed fate itself.

He thought he was bold enough, but apparently, there was someone even bolder!

The girl in front of him clearly wasn’t ordinary.

Daring to call Dongfang Zhixia by her full name? If that wasn’t audacious, what was?

Ye Cheng just wanted to live a quiet, uneventful life—preferably a long one—without getting tangled up with people whose backgrounds were too complicated.

Unfortunately, fate had other plans.

Not only had he just subjected Dongfang Zhixia to the "darkest moment" of her life in front of thousands, but now he’d also stumbled upon this mysterious girl with a sprained ankle.

"Stop looking. I’m talking about you," Shen Qinghan said, her calm voice tinged with faint exasperation.

"Don’t slander me like that! Who said I like her?" Ye Cheng corrected righteously.

"You’ve got ‘The President’s Loyal Dog’ written on your front and Dongfang Zhixia’s photo on your back. You can’t possibly claim you wore the wrong shirt by accident, can you?" Her tone was flat, as if she’d seen right through him.

Oh. Right. That.

Ye Cheng had completely forgotten—he was still wearing that cringy "waifu shirt" dedicated to the student council president.

Cornered, he gave up on excuses.

"That was before! I’ve already been rejected by the president. I’ve moved on! I’ll throw the shirt away as soon as I get back."

Shen Qinghan didn’t respond, silently watching his performance.

Then, as if struck by a thought, she asked,

"You ran out just now… were you the one who confronted Dongfang Zhixia during the orientation ceremony—"

"No! Absolutely not! Don’t make baseless accusations!" Ye Cheng fired off a triple denial.

Shen Qinghan: "..."

She didn’t speak again for the rest of the walk.

She kept her arms crossed in front of her chest, maintaining distance to avoid further contact.

Soon, they arrived at the infirmary.

Calling it an "infirmary" was an understatement—it was more like a luxurious private hospital!

After all, Ye Cheng had never seen a university clinic equipped with an operating table and emergency room, its facilities putting nearby hospitals to shame.

They were greeted by a stunning doctor with gold-rimmed glasses, leisurely munching on an apple while binge-watching a drama.

[Task completed. Reward issued. Please check.]

Hearing the system notification, Ye Cheng’s heart leaped with joy. Without hesitation, he dumped the girl onto a nearby hospital bed.

"Miss, will you be paying by transfer or card?"

He blinked his big, sparkling eyes, putting on his best money-grubbing expression.

Shen Qinghan: "..."

She sighed but showed no intention of dodging the payment. Still, something didn’t sit right with her.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. How could Ye Cheng act like he had zero interest in her?

She was beautiful. Perfect. Adorable.

How could he…?

"Doctor Tang, transfer ten thousand to him. I’ll pay you back later," Shen Qinghan said.

The doctor, now referred to as Doctor Tang, uncrossed her legs and studied the two with amusement.

"What kind of transaction is this? The kind I’m thinking of? Ten thousand? Tsk tsk, you kids make money way too easily. I have to work for days to earn that much."

Ye Cheng: "???"

Can we please speak like normal humans?

Once again, Ye Cheng lamented the unfairness of fate.

At that shady logistics company where he’d been treated like a forklift, working twelve-hour shifts only earned him about two hundred a day.

Ten thousand? That was nearly two months of forklift labor.

"Alright, kid, hand over your phone. Big sis will transfer it to you."

Despite her teasing tone, Doctor Tang didn’t hesitate, pulling out her phone to send the money.

"Ding! Ten thousand yuan received via WeChat!"

"If there’s nothing else, I’ll be going now!"

The moment the money landed, Ye Cheng turned on his heel and bolted from the infirmary without a second glance.

"Oh my, I never thought I’d see the day our young miss gets extorted. Isn’t that supposed to be your family’s line of work?" Doctor Tang covered her mouth, giggling uncontrollably.

Shen Qinghan shook her head. "We stopped doing that kind of thing a long time ago. At most, we deal in gray areas now—nothing outright black anymore."

"Is there a difference? Cut me some slack, young miss. I’m getting old—can’t tell gray from black anymore. Just treat me as colorblind."

Doctor Tang stuck out her tongue playfully.

Shen Qinghan didn’t respond, as if further conversation was pointless.

After a long pause, Doctor Tang prepared ointment and bandages to treat Shen Qinghan’s injury.

"Oof, young miss, this is a pretty bad sprain. Brace yourself—this might hurt a bit."

She got to work, but after a moment, her expression shifted.

"Huh? Young miss, you reset it yourself? You’ve got a real talent for medicine!"

Shen Qinghan: "..."

"Not me. It was that guy earlier," she muttered, turning her head away.

"Really now? That handsome little boy touched your foot? Think your dad will turn him into dumpling filling if he finds out?" Doctor Tang grinned, clearly enjoying the drama.

Shen Qinghan: "..."

"I told you, we don’t do that kind of thing anymore. Legitimate business only."

"Alright, alright, legitimate business. I’m just teasing. Lift your foot a bit—let me apply the medicine."

Shen Qinghan stayed silent, wordlessly extending her slender, pale foot for treatment.

Her gaze lingered on the doorway, lost in thought.

---

The orientation ceremony concluded without further incident.

In a secluded, high-end meeting room, Dongfang Zhixia rested her chin on one hand, the other tapping a pen rhythmically against the table.

She should have been calmly handling documents and various school affairs, but now she couldn’t focus.

Her mind was completely occupied by that "iced tea" guy who carried around a speaker blasting his own background music. Especially his declaration—"I’m determined to be the president’s dog!"—sent a shiver down Dongfang Zhixia’s spine.

"Is this guy even human?"

Such an absurd thought surfaced in Dongfang Zhixia’s mind. People shouldn’t—no, they couldn’t—act like this.

"Young Mistress, it’s getting late. You should rest soon."

The Little Secretary approached with a freshly brewed cup of coffee and handed it to Dongfang Zhixia. She took a small sip and frowned.

"If I’m supposed to sleep, why are you giving me coffee?"

"Oh, well, Young Mistress, we still have some coffee beans left at home. They’re about to expire, so we should finish them tonight and buy new ones tomorrow."

The Little Secretary blinked her big, sparkling eyes and spoke with utmost sincerity.

Dongfang Zhixia: "…"

"You idiot! If something’s about to expire, just throw it away! Why are you making me drink it? Am I worth less than these coffee beans to you?"

"Wahhh, I’m sorry, Young Mistress! It’d be such a waste to throw them out… And these beans smell so good too, it’d be a shame…"

The Little Secretary looked up at her mistress with pitiful eyes.

Dongfang Zhixia nearly choked on her anger.

"You’re so stupid. Have you been sneaking snacks again? You feel even chubbier than before."

Dongfang Zhixia narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing the "useless fat" on the Little Secretary’s body. Hmm… she did seem… plumper?

The Little Secretary shook her head vigorously. "No, no! I didn’t sneak out of bed at night while you were asleep to eat the cake I bought during the day…"

Her voice grew smaller and smaller, her gaze drifting away, unable to meet her mistress’s eyes. It sounded less like a defense and more like a confession.

Dongfang Zhixia: "…"

"Where’s the cake hidden?"

"Wahhh, no, Young Mistress! They’re innocent! Wahhh…"

The two of them clung to each other—one sniffling and pitiful, the other stern and domineering—yet the scene was oddly harmonious, as if they had been like this for years, both long accustomed to their roles.

Thanks to the Little Secretary’s antics, Dongfang Zhixia temporarily forgot about that damned… "iced tea."