Looking at the Stars, the Little Secretary Gets a Nosebleed

Boys' Dormitory.

Ye Cheng wore an expression of utter disbelief, staring motionlessly at his phone as Xia Tongxin's taunting voice continued to play on loop from the speaker.

"Pfft, what a weakling. This young lady took you down without even trying. Hehehe, a loser will always be a loser..."

Listening to the jeering, Ye Cheng silently climbed out of bed, slipping into his worn-out, hole-riddled "sandpaper" sweatpants—his lucky pair for the year—before shuffling to the balcony. Outside, his laundry hung drying in the breeze.

Absentmindedly, he reached into one of the pants pockets hanging on the clothesline and… pulled out a cigarette. A white one.

This was another bizarre quirk of his existence.

In a way, Ye Cheng could now be considered a superhuman—able to pull out a cigarette from any unseen space, anywhere, at any time. The only rule? It had to be a place invisible to the naked eye.

These were no ordinary cigarettes, either. They were "flavor-shifting" smokes, a gift from his mysterious "golden finger" ability. The taste remained undetermined until lit, locking in only after the first puff. To change it, he had to finish the current one, reach into another unseen space, and draw out a fresh cigarette to reset the flavor.

Ye Cheng lit up and took a deep drag. The smoke carried a faint, sweet tang of iced tea.

He wasn’t new to smoking. Back when he worked at the factory tightening screws, kind-hearted coworkers would often offer him a stick or two. After all, smoking alone was just "self-indulgence," but sharing? That was true camaraderie.

Tilting his head back, his eyes took on a look of melancholy—three parts sorrow, three parts aloofness, three parts… well, let’s just say it was the kind of expression that made hearts ache, like a heartbroken CEO in a cheesy romance novel. Though, admittedly, no CEO in history had ever favored iced tea-flavored cigarettes.

He might not have been a CEO, but he was at least a "delinquent" with the looks of a succubus.

Gazing at the moon, Ye Cheng often wondered if he was too soft-hearted. How else could he have been outsmarted by some brat? Unacceptable.

His apartment was on the second floor, but the building itself sat atop a hill, making it one of the most prominent spots on campus.

This prime location came with an unfortunate side effect: it was a magnet for peeping toms.

With just a pair of binoculars, anyone could peer down and see everything—including the girls' dormitory.

The reverse was also true. Other dorms and apartments had an equally clear view of Ye Cheng’s male-dominated building.

Though, so far, there hadn’t been any reports of female voyeurs.

A long time ago, a boy from the dorm had been caught red-handed. His fate? Let’s just say it wasn’t pretty. Since then, most guys kept their pervy urges in check. Rumor had it the girls had their own share of creeps, but with every student council president being female, offenders usually got off with just a warning.

Nothing like that poor guy who’d been expelled for wandering around at night with a telescope.

Shaking with rage, when would men ever catch a break? When would justice—

Anyway, fairness at this academy was a myth. It only existed for the ordinary folks.

When everyone had "privilege," privilege ceased to exist—replaced by a new tier of power, towering above the old.

Take the Dongfang Family, for example.

They had their own private villa district on campus, an entire section of land carved out just for them.

And guess where it was? Right across from Ye Cheng’s dorm, on the opposite hill.

Tonight, a glint of light flickered from one of those villas—a telescope’s reflection.

Dongfang Family Villa.

The young secretary stood on the balcony, clutching a telescope, stargazing.

One of her hobbies? Astronomy!

Though her approach was… unique. While her mistress, the Dongfang heiress, sought cosmic wonder and existential musings, the secretary was on a quest for celestial snacks.

Specifically, she was searching for a moon that looked like a mooncake—preferably red bean paste, her favorite.

Sadly, the books had lied. The real moon had no jade rabbit, no Chang’e, just a bunch of boring craters.

So she’d shifted her focus to spotting other "delicacies" in the sky.

A particularly dark star with faint glimmers? That was a freshly boiled black sesame tangyuan in her eyes.

Warm and inviting.

At first, she’d only stargazed because her mistress forced her to—something about "cultivating refinement" and "unlocking the mysteries of the universe."

She hadn’t retained a single word of that. But once she started imagining the stars as food, her enthusiasm skyrocketed. Now, she spent hours every night scanning the skies.

While the secretary indulged in her cosmic buffet, Dongfang Zhixia was inside, undergoing rehab.

The hospital’s antivenom had done its job. Her checkup was clear. Now, it was just a matter of regaining her strength. A few more days, and she’d be back to peak condition.

And once she was?

Twenty-kilometer runs for the secretary.

Weight loss. Non-negotiable.

First floor.

Dongfang Zhixia finished her final set of stretches, straightening up as a bead of sweat slid down her hairline.

Drip.

"…That should do it."

She glanced at her ankle.

The swelling had subsided, leaving only faint bruises and two barely visible snakebite scars.

Just the sight of them made her cheeks burn hotter than they already were from exertion.

Unwanted memories flooded back—specifically, that bastard sucking the venom out of her leg on the mountaintop.

"Time to settle the score," she muttered through gritted teeth, clenching her fists.

Her silence these past two days hadn’t been forgiveness. No, she’d been biding her time, rebuilding her strength. Unlike a certain "delicate" mafia princess who needed to be carried everywhere.

Tch.

How embarrassing, Miss Shen.

For some reason, the image of Ye Cheng carrying Shen Qinghan on his back stirred an inexplicable irritation in Dongfang Zhixia’s chest.

Maybe it was the sting of seeing her own "loyal dog" wagging its tail for someone else.

Dongfang Zhixia didn’t want to waste time analyzing the specifics, but she was curious to see how a certain mafia princess would react when flustered or anxious. Would that icy little face of hers still maintain its "adorable" composure?

How delightful that would be…

Now that she had recovered, it was time to settle the score!

Dongfang Zhixia stretched her body, accentuating every curve as the moonlight streaming through the window cast an ethereal glow around her, making her look breathtakingly beautiful.

A few minutes later, she glanced at the clock on the wall and frowned.

"What’s that idiot doing now? Why hasn’t she come down yet? Is she trying to slack off?"

It was already time for their scheduled "weight-loss session," and Dongfang Zhixia had even prepared an extra fly swatter—just waiting for her lazy little secretary to slack off so she could… whack!

But now, the secretary was nowhere to be seen?

Narrowing her eyes, Dongfang Zhixia said nothing. Barefoot, she padded silently upstairs.

Top floor.

Balcony.

Dongfang Zhixia emerged from the staircase and immediately spotted her secretary, engrossed in peering through a telescope.

"Hmm? Did she spot Tangyuan or Yuebing again? Why so focused?"

A suspicious glint flickered in Dongfang Zhixia’s beautiful eyes as she crept closer, her steps soundless.

Drip, drip…

She heard the sound of droplets and turned her head, her pupils contracting.

"Idiot, what are you doing?!"

The secretary, startled by her mistress’s voice, jumped like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. She hastily covered the telescope, shaking her head frantically.

"N-Nothing! I wasn’t looking at anything!"

Drip, drip… Blood trickled steadily from her nose, her face flushed crimson, the redness spreading down to her neck. Her ears burned hot, her usually clear eyes now hazy, her words slurred as she denied everything.

And yet… she clutched the telescope tightly.

Dongfang Zhixia: "…"