Superb Muscle Lines, Mission Requirements, Accept Double Row to Hold the Bottom Line

Click.

The apartment door swung open.

Tang Yuyao stepped in first, flicking the lights on with a snap. Ye Cheng followed behind, arms laden with bags and packages, urging her impatiently.

"Come on, Dr. Tang, why are you just standing there? Trying to be Qin Shubao or Yu Chigong (the door gods)?"

Bam!

Before Ye Cheng could finish, Tang Yuyao, who had already entered, abruptly slammed the door shut—right into his face. Slowly, a large, red bump swelled on his forehead.

Look at this bump, so big and red, just like this—

Ye Cheng: "..."

Well, now it’s symmetrical.

Upon closer inspection, aside from the fresh lump dangling from his forehead, there was already another one on the back of his head—courtesy of Tang Yuyao’s earlier outburst.

As the saying goes, women and small-minded people are the hardest to deal with. Ye Cheng strongly suspected Tang Yuyao was lashing out because he’d seen through her attempt to exploit him, and she was now drowning in embarrassment.

Fortunately, Ye Cheng had a high pain tolerance. Aside from the throbbing, he was fine—probably just needed a good night’s sleep to recover.

Well, that applied to the lump on the back of his head. The one on his forehead? Even if it healed overnight, it’d still be glaringly obvious tomorrow. So—

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Ye Cheng dropped his bags and started hammering on the door. "Old hag, only one of us is walking out of here alive today! I’m telling you, this isn’t over!"

His furious voice echoed down the hallway, seeping through the closed metal door into the apartment.

Tang Yuyao heard it, of course, but she had bigger problems right now—she was this close to social suicide.

She usually lived alone. The school provided free housing for faculty, separate from student dorms. As Ye Cheng put it, even though Tang Yuyao was just a "lazy, deadbeat doctor" in the infirmary, technically, she still counted as staff.

All faculty members enjoyed free housing—just pay utilities, and even those were half-subsidized by the school.

Good pay, easy work, and close to home? The perfect dream for any overworked drone.

Naturally, Tang Yuyao wasn’t dumb enough to rent outside. Living on campus meant extra sleep.

And since it was her place, she lived however she pleased. So… her clothes—inside, outside, everywhere. Cool ones, warm ones, you name it. A single glance would reveal it all.

No one ever visited her. This had been her norm for years. Today, she’d dragged Ye Cheng in as free labor—her first-ever guest.

The moment she turned on the lights, her blood rushed to her head, face burning crimson down to her neck.

Luckily, Ye Cheng’s arms were too full of boxes to see anything.

Quick as lightning, SLAM!—she shut the door and frantically started gathering her "exploded" wardrobe. No time to organize; she just scooped everything into her arms, flung open her bedroom door, and dumped it all inside.

Rinse and repeat. One minute later, the living room was spotless.

Tang Yuyao exhaled deeply, wiping sweat from her brow, cheeks still flushed.

"Did I miss anything?"

Another minute of meticulous scanning confirmed the coast was clear. Only then did she finally open the door for Ye Cheng.

Click.

"Old hag, only one of us is walking out of here alive today! I’m telling you, this isn’t over!"

Ye Cheng glared at her, fury etched on his face, looking ready to devour her whole.

Tang Yuyao’s first glimpse was the shiny "lightbulb" on his forehead—her handiwork, no doubt.

Yeah, this was on her. No wonder he was pissed. Seeing his rage, she tentatively offered:

"How about… another 10,000 to pretend this never happened?"

"Hah. You think money solves everything? Don’t insult my noble character with your filthy cash, you—"

Ye Cheng’s sneer was ice-cold, no trace of his usual playfulness.

"…20,000?" Tang Yuyao raised a second finger, wiggling it like a bunny’s ear—20 grand.

"Mommy, could you insult me twice more?"

Ye Cheng’s tirade cut off instantly. His eyes sparkled with newfound clarity as he whipped out his phone, shoving the payment QR code under her nose.

Tang Yuyao: "..."

"WeChat Pay received: 20,000 yuan!"

The robotic voice announced the transfer. Tang Yuyao paid without hesitation, then pocketed her phone.

"That’s it. I’m drained. You’ve sucked me dry this month… wuuu…" She pouted at her phone.

The month had barely started, and she’d already spent more than she earned—all on Ye Cheng. Wuuu…

Ye Cheng, meanwhile, was gleefully checking his balance. Something about her words felt off.

"The month just started, though?"

"Yeah, what about it?" Tang Yuyao blinked.

Ye Cheng: "..."

Silently, he reopened his QR code. One second to switch back to "battle mode":

"You think 20,000 is enough to insult me? Dream on! You think money lets you do whatever you want? You think—"

Thunk!

His rant ended abruptly as a fresh lump joined the collection. He meekly retracted his QR code.

"Your face is thick, you know that?" Tang Yuyao smiled sweetly, pinching his cheek and stretching it like putty.

Every word dripped with gritted teeth.

Damn, she saw through it!

Turns out, poverty had limited Ye Cheng’s imagination. He’d assumed a slacker school doctor like Tang Yuyao wouldn’t earn much—maybe five figures, definitely not six.

But this chat revealed she might easily pull six figures a month.

Ahem. "So, uh, Dr. Tang, I should head back. Dorm curfew’s soon."

Cash in hand, Ye Cheng prepared to bolt. Tang Yuyao yanked him back.

"You’re already here. Might as stay for a bit."

Sure, he’d just extorted her, but in a way, she deserved it after putting him through so much. And honestly, his shameless, upfront greed was kinda… refreshing.

At least they're not like certain people who keep spouting nonsense about "having her best interests at heart" with that hypocritical face, only to turn around and try to marry her off to someone's son—dressing it up with excuses like "my old comrade-in-arms is trustworthy" or "I watched that boy grow up."

Oh really? If he's so trustworthy, why don't you marry him yourself? Cut the crap.

[Host, please follow your heart—accept the clinic doctor's duo queue invitation while maintaining your boundaries!]

[Reward: Supreme muscle definition]