Rosy Cheeks, the Mafia Princess's Unallowable Possession

Cafeteria, third floor.

Dongfang Zhixia and her assistant had already vanished, leaving only Ye Cheng and Shen Qinghan behind.

"Young Mistress, you mustn’t take that wicked woman’s words to heart—she was just trying to drive a wedge between us!" Ye Cheng lamented with exaggerated distress, condemning Dongfang Zhixia’s earlier behavior.

"So, you’re saying it wasn’t you who confessed your love during the freshman opening ceremony?" Shen Qinghan nodded calmly before asking, her expression unreadable.

Beads of sweat formed on Ye Cheng’s forehead. "That was just a joke between us! Kids messing around, you know?"

Shen Qinghan remained silent, as if weighing his words, then gave a slight nod. Ye Cheng exhaled in relief.

Phew. Dodged a bullet.

"Then, does that mean the black shoe in your backpack before wasn’t Dongfang Zhixia’s?" Shen Qinghan’s question instantly yanked Ye Cheng from heaven straight into hell.

Ye Cheng’s brain kicked into overdrive—every neuron firing, every circuit scrambling for an answer.

After cycling through possible responses, his brain short-circuited, opting for self-destruction by replaying mind-numbing, dopamine-fueled short videos.

Ah~

Slippery… what is this?

This is a brain.

The cerebellum took over while the cerebrum smoothed out its wrinkles.

Cerebellum: So, it’s my turn? The azure beast slumbering within awakens!

After three agonizing seconds of deliberation, the cerebellum delivered its verdict—here’s your lifeline, kid. The secret to survival lies within!

Full offense!!!

Ye Cheng closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and reopened them with newfound determination.

"I saw it lying on the ground, so I picked it up!" he declared, utterly shameless.

Slap!

…

Noon.

On the way back to the classroom, Ye Cheng’s cheeks were "rosy," carrying the icy-hearted Young Mistress on his back.

The rosy flush suited him, reminding him of his childhood days standing at the school gate in winter as a Young Pioneer, inspecting students’ red scarves… courtesy of Shen Qinghan’s slap.

"Young Mistress, you’re such a stickler for details."

Ye Cheng’s words slurred slightly, his tongue still thick from the cafeteria incident. Choosing to let his cerebellum take the wheel had thoroughly enraged Shen Qinghan.

Faced with the choice between death and a slightly more dignified death, Ye Cheng had chosen to dig his own grave.

Zhao Zilong charged through enemy lines seven times with unshakable courage—Ye Cheng, letting his cerebellum lead, embodied Zhao Zilong in spirit.

Shen Qinghan scoffed but said nothing, silently tightening the scarf around Ye Cheng’s neck into another knot. At this point, it wasn’t a scarf—it was a noose.

One wrong move, and she’d add another.

The suffocating pressure coiled around Ye Cheng’s neck like a python, growing tighter by the second.

He felt like a donkey grinding grain—exhausted, overworked, and still subjected to the Young Mistress’s relentless whipping and exploitation. He was barely holding on.

But whenever he reached his limit, the soft warmth pressed against his back triggered a survival mechanism, pushing him forward.

No wonder donkeys were tempted with a carrot they could never reach—zero cost, maximum productivity.

The sweltering heat, combined with Ye Cheng’s winter-ready attire, made even the lightly dressed Shen Qinghan uncomfortable.

Her white dress shirt clung faintly with sweat.

Her delicate face remained stern, but the strands of hair sticking to her temples betrayed her discomfort.

Shifting slightly to adjust her position, she inadvertently caused Ye Cheng to speed up. Shen Qinghan blinked, realization dawning, then flushed and went still.

Ye Cheng, now with an even bigger "carrot" dangling before him, tapped into boundless energy. His passive skill, "Lightning Steps," cut their usual ten-minute walk to under five.

Back in the classroom, cool air greeted them.

"Come on, Young Mistress, let’s enjoy this properly."

Ye Cheng carried Shen Qinghan to their seats at the back, then—bundled up like a bear—adjusted the fan blades to direct the breeze at them.

Cool gusts swept over them, easing the tension in Shen Qinghan’s brows.

"Disgusting." Her face remained expressionless as she stomped on Ye Cheng’s foot.

Ye Cheng: "…"

Despite the relief, Shen Qinghan’s irritation lingered. After a brief respite, she turned away, burying herself in a book and ignoring him.

Soon, she set the book down, pivoted back, and glared at Ye Cheng—now hogging all the airflow—with icy fury.

Ye Cheng blinked innocently. "What’s wrong, Young Mistress?"

Slap!

By afternoon classes, Ye Cheng’s cheeks were even rosier, adorned with the faint imprint of a delicate hand.

Unfazed, he spent the afternoon performing "surgery" on his eraser until the final bell.

Ding-dong!

Most students had already left, but Ye Cheng and Shen Qinghan remained in the back.

Ye Cheng blinked.

"Young Mistress, school’s over."

Shen Qinghan pretended not to hear, leisurely packing her belongings before scanning the room for something.

"Young Mistress, looking for this?"

Ye Cheng held up the discarded "First Step to Courage."

Shen Qinghan extended a hand wordlessly for her cane—without it, she’d struggle to return.

Just as her fingers brushed it, Ye Cheng "slipped."

"Oops, dropped it."

Clatter. The cane hit the floor. Then came the "accident."

Wind-up… and kick!

Bang!

The cane skidded halfway across the room before vanishing from sight.

"Uh-oh, Young Mistress, your First Step to Courage seems to have fled. But fear not! You’ve got me—a reliable, trustworthy man!" Ye Cheng thumped his chest proudly.

Shen Qinghan: "…"

…

Outside the girls’ dorm.

"See you tomorrow, Young Mistress! Rest well, mwah~"

Ye Cheng waved enthusiastically, blowing exaggerated kisses as Shen Qinghan ascended the steps without a backward glance, her cane tapping rhythmically.

Only once she disappeared did Ye Cheng’s smile fade, replaced by a polite, hollow grin.

If one looked closely, they would notice two more delicate handprints on Ye Cheng's face.

"Dear Dr. Tang, we really need to have a serious talk about today's compensation issue!" The "polite" smile on Ye Cheng's face twisted into the "deranged Longtu" expression, veins bulging as he gritted his teeth.

Without wasting a second, Ye Cheng sped toward the infirmary in his "lightning-fast" stride.

As the mastermind behind his miserable day, Tang Yuyao was someone Ye Cheng absolutely couldn’t let off the hook so easily—she had to make it up to him!

What? You say you don’t have money?

Then pay with something else!!!

Upstairs.

At the corner of the hallway, Shen Qinghan peeked out with just half her figure visible, watching Ye Cheng leave before finally withdrawing her gaze.

Tap, tap, tap…

Leaning on her cane, Shen Qinghan walked back to her apartment, returning to the solitary state she was so accustomed to. Yet today, for some reason, the loneliness felt unusually intense.

Perhaps it was because a certain annoying presence was missing by her side?

The incident in the cafeteria today hadn’t left Shen Qinghan as composed as she appeared—at least not after Dongfang Zhixia kissed Ye Cheng’s forehead.

Shen Qinghan wasn’t one to fight for things. That was just her nature. What belonged to her would always be hers; no one could take it. And what wasn’t hers? She couldn’t care less.

She didn’t covet what others had.

Back in her apartment.

Click. Shen Qinghan turned on the lights, and the first thing that caught her eye was a rabbit plushie sitting in the most conspicuous spot, cigarette in mouth.

She stared at the plushie in silence, as if lost in thought.

Then, taking two steps forward, she hugged it tightly.

She didn’t want what belonged to others—but the problem was… this thing was originally hers. Why should she let someone else take it?

Her restless heart gradually settled. She pulled out her phone.

Beep, beep, beep…

"Young Mistress!"

"I want Dongfang Zhixia’s records."

...