Winning People with Virtue: Miss Tang's "Kindred Spirit"

In the apartment.

"Brat, I don’t want a third person to know about what happened today. Otherwise, you know what I’m capable of!" Tang Yuyao narrowed her eyes, giving Ye Cheng a dangerous look.

Ye Cheng nodded frantically, signaling that he wouldn’t breathe a word. Right now, he couldn’t help but feel like the male lead in one of those special Japanese documentaries, with Tang Yuyao playing the role of the domineering CEO, the understanding father-in-law, or the husband’s suspiciously kind friend…

"Go on, brat, make me some noodles!"

Like a tyrant, Tang Yuyao kicked Ye Cheng and kept urging him to hurry up and cook. At this moment, her true colors as a capitalist—no, scratch that—a slave owner were on full display.

Originally, she had invited Ye Cheng over to share a meal, but he ended up devouring everything himself. After working all night, Tang Yuyao hadn’t gotten a single bite, and she was seriously considering strangling him.

After taking the kick, Ye Cheng didn’t dare resist. Instead, he put on a "handsome man humiliated" act, eyes brimming with "tears of shame," as he reluctantly trudged to the kitchen to make noodles for Tang Yuyao.

"Brat, keep pretending and I’ll beat you to death!" Tang Yuyao clenched her fists, glaring fiercely at Ye Cheng’s pitiful display and hurling threats his way.

Ye Cheng acted as if he hadn’t heard her, continuing his "humiliated hunk" routine—until Tang Yuyao picked up a fruit knife from the coffee table and marched toward the kitchen. Only then did he snap out of it, putting on an "innocent" face.

"Mommy, do you want an apple? I’ll peel one for you right now."

Ye Cheng’s survival instincts kicked in. He grabbed an apple and started peeling it with practiced ease. Soon, a perfectly spiraled peel formed, and with one final flick of the knife, the peel slid off the apple in one piece.

One of Ye Cheng’s signature skills—peeling an apple without breaking the peel. The sudden display of talent left Tang Yuyao momentarily stunned. And just like that, the apple made its way into her mouth and back out again.

It wasn’t until she was seated on the couch that Tang Yuyao finally bit into the apple and chewed. Hmm… not bad. Wait, what was she about to do again? Oh right, stab that brat to death. How did she end up back here? Whatever, the apple was good. Might as well finish it.

A few minutes later.

As Tang Yuyao finished the apple, a mouthwatering aroma wafted from the kitchen, instantly awakening her hunger.

She had originally planned to treat herself to a cheat meal—some takeout barbecue—but Ye Cheng had "cheated" her out of every last bite.

Soon, Ye Cheng emerged from the kitchen with a steaming bowl of seafood noodles, perfectly cooked and fragrant. It could’ve been done faster, but since he had no experience handling seafood, he had to learn on the fly, which delayed things a bit. Still, the end result was impressive.

Once the noodles were served, Tang Yuyao didn’t hold back. She snatched the chopsticks from Ye Cheng and dug in without a care for appearances.

The first slurp made her eyes light up.

This was good!

She had expected something mediocre at best, but this was unexpectedly delicious—no, exceptionally delicious.

At the very least, Tang Yuyao knew she could never replicate Ye Cheng’s skills. Meanwhile, Ye Cheng stood nearby, watching her with an "innocent" expression, blinking for some inexplicable reason.

Thwack!

Tang Yuyao kicked him again. "What are you staring at, brat? Go make me a couple of side dishes to go with my drink. I’m in a bad mood today, so hurry up—unless you want me to skin you alive!"

Ye Cheng: "…"

Wasn’t she supposed to be the cool, composed, caring doctor type? Since when did she start talking like a mob boss? At this point, Ye Cheng wouldn’t even bat an eye if she started scratching her feet in front of him. She had completely let her guard down around him.

No filters, no reservations—just pure, unfiltered Tang Yuyao.

Over the past few days of butting heads with Ye Cheng, Tang Yuyao had come to a realization: when dealing with this brat, actions spoke louder than words. One good smack, and he’d behave!

An evil little brat like him needed a righteous medical professional like her to keep him in line. Heh heh heh…

She watched as Ye Cheng disappeared into the kitchen, only then allowing herself to mutter under her breath.

"Am I being too harsh on him?"

Years of upbringing and ingrained personality couldn’t be overturned overnight. Seeing Ye Cheng so pitifully bullied, she started feeling a twinge of guilt.

Even his past misdeeds now seemed forgivable in her mind, as she subconsciously conjured up excuses to justify his behavior. Before long, Ye Cheng had transformed from a "disgusting brat" into a "young, good-looking guy who just needed guidance."

With this mental "filter" applied, she recalled the melancholic look Ye Cheng had when standing by the door earlier. Honestly, it was kind of… attractive. Tang Yuyao had a soft spot for that version of him.

In today’s warped society, the saying "looks are justice" had permeated every social stratum. Good-looking people enjoyed privileges others didn’t, while unattractive ones faced unwarranted hostility despite doing nothing wrong.

It wasn’t about right or wrong—it was human nature. Even without societal pressures, people gravitated toward beauty.

Of course, all that was just a fancy way of saying Tang Yuyao was shallow. Very shallow.

Earlier, she had been too busy disciplining him to get a good look. But when Ye Cheng brought out the noodles, she finally took a proper glance. Huh, he did seem fairer than before, though his features hadn’t changed much.

Yet that slight increase in fairness inexplicably boosted her fondness for him. Such was the way of the shallow—good looks equaled truth.

If not for Ye Cheng’s utterly insufferable personality—like a demon child reincarnated, single-handedly dragging down his own charm—he’d probably have even more admirers.

Ye Cheng himself had a feeling his charm stat was about to break through level 9 soon.

Maybe then, people would give him discounts—or even free meals—just for being pretty.

Looks were a kind of resource, after all, and Ye Cheng wasn’t stupid enough to waste his. Back in elementary school, he had already milked his "decent" appearance for all it was worth, scamming his way into all sorts of treats—every last one devoured without remorse.

Meanwhile, Tang Yuyao’s imagination ran wild, mentally casting Ye Cheng as everything from a sweet little puppy to a fierce wolf to a domineering CEO…

Whenever Tang Yuyao watched TV shows or movies, she would subconsciously imagine Ye Cheng's face in the roles, testing how well he fit. Surprisingly, no matter what character Ye Cheng "played," he looked unexpectedly perfect in her mind.

Lost in these thoughts, Tang Yuyao would suddenly giggle to herself, her cheeks flushing with a hint of shyness—a bizarrely amusing sight. After each laugh, she’d take a sip of the beer in front of her, one after another, until the bottle was empty. Then—click—she’d crack open the next one.

Before long, Ye Cheng emerged from the kitchen with a plate of snacks meant to pair with drinks, only to find Tang Yuyao already red-faced and tipsy, having nearly finished her noodles.

Ye Cheng raised an eyebrow. So… had he just wasted his time making those snacks?

He’d never seen someone like Tang Yuyao—someone who could drink themselves into a merry stupor all alone. Glancing at the several empty beer bottles scattered on the floor, Ye Cheng sucked in a sharp breath. Damn, that’s terrifying.

Silently, he untied his apron, set down the plate, and began inching toward the door, careful not to disturb the clearly intoxicated Tang Yuyao.

A gut feeling told him that if she noticed him now, things would get messy. Checking the time, he saw he had less than half an hour before the male dormitory locked its doors. If he didn’t make it back in time, he’d be stuck groveling to the student council president again tomorrow.

Sure, Ye Cheng had grown accustomed to playing the obedient "dog," but as a model "three-virtues youth" of the new era, he had to at least pretend to resist. Otherwise, people might start thinking he had some weird kinks.

Squinting, Ye Cheng kept one eye on Tang Yuyao’s swaying figure as he crept toward the exit.

Step by step.

Good, good… almost there…

"Stop!" Tang Yuyao’s slightly slurred voice rang out from behind him. The moment she stood up, a wave of alcohol-laden breath hit Ye Cheng like a truck. Instead of freezing, he bolted faster toward the door.

His hand gripped the doorknob—then THUD!

Out of nowhere, Tang Yuyao swung a stick, smacking Ye Cheng square on the head. He collapsed stiffly, his life flashing before his eyes.

Thump.

When Ye Cheng came to, he found himself tied to a chair—with what appeared to be unconventional articles of clothing. Tang Yuyao sat across from him, clutching a beer in one hand while a fruit knife lay ominously on the table.

SLAM!

She slapped the knife and grinned drunkenly. "Try running again, and don’t blame me if this blade gets personal… Hehehe…"

Ye Cheng: "…"

What the hell? Did she binge-watch too much of that "Battle Through the Heavens" crap? Since when does she "hehehe" like some cartoon villain?!

But under Tang Yuyao’s tyranny, Ye Cheng had no choice but to comply. A glance at the wall clock told him he still had about twenty minutes—enough time to sweet-talk his way out if he played his cards right.

"Hey, kid… you know how much I’ve suffered all these years? Gulp gulp… Haaah…"

Tang Yuyao’s face was beet red. After every sentence, she’d chug another swig of beer, sighing in satisfaction before continuing her rambling tale.

Not that Ye Cheng particularly cared. Right now, all he wanted was to get back to his dorm before curfew. Another night out, and he’d be stuck playing fetch for the president again.

He did the math—how many days had it been since the semester started? Barely two nights spent normally in his dorm. The rest? Either holed up in some cheap love hotel or dragged here by this deranged, alcohol-fueled doctor.

"Say something!"

After muttering to herself for ages, Tang Yuyao suddenly slammed the table, annoyed that Ye Cheng hadn’t chimed in.

Ye Cheng hurriedly nodded. "You’ve really had it rough, Dr. Tang. My condolences."

Satisfied, Tang Yuyao retracted her glare and took another hearty gulp.

"Dr. Tang this, Dr. Tang that—I have a name, you brat! It’s Tang Yuyao!"

"Got it, Dr. Tang. Understood, Dr. Tang." Ye Cheng nodded with faux innocence.

But he’d underestimated the volatility of a drunk Tang Yuyao. The moment the words left his mouth, her eyes flashed with fury. Staggering to her feet, she marched over barefoot and—

SLAP!

"Call me Yuyao!"

Ye Cheng: "…"

Could’ve just asked nicely. Was the violence necessary?

"Yuyao," Ye Cheng obliged without hesitation.

SLAP!

Another strike landed, this time on the other cheek.

Ye Cheng: "…"

"Call me YaoYao!"

"YaoYao."

SLAP!

"Call me Mommy!"

Ye Cheng: "???"

At this point, Ye Cheng seriously doubted Tang Yuyao was even drunk. But the crimson "plateau blush" on her face suggested otherwise. Swallowing his rage, he mentally added today’s humiliation to his revenge ledger. Just you wait, Dr. Tang. I’ll pay you back tenfold one day—

SLAP!

"Say it now!" Tang Yuyao swayed dangerously, her patience wearing thin.

Ye Cheng: "…"

First, he had no weird fetishes. Second, he was a sane person. And third… he said it.

Whatever pleased Tang Yuyao’s drunken ego. Once satisfied, she wobbled back to her seat and resumed her tearful monologue about life’s injustices.

This time, Ye Cheng listened intently—not out of interest, but fear of another flying slap or random interrogation. Thankfully, she stuck to rambling.

Her words soon dissolved into sobs.

"Sniff… Kid, you have no idea how awful they were! They tried to force me into marrying some stranger, saying it was ‘for my own good’! Hic… Gulp gulp… Sniffle… Waaah…!"

"Kid, tell me—was I wrong to run away?"

"Uh… was the guy rich? Handsome? Any shady habits? From Chengdu?" Ye Cheng pondered earnestly before answering.

Tang Yuyao downed two more gulps before replying, "Filthy rich. And honestly? Pretty good-looking. No weird kinks… but he’s from Beijing…"

Ye Cheng: "???"

Isn't this the perfect partner—wealthy, handsome, good-tempered, and from a prestigious family?

What’s there to complain about? Are you messing with me, or have you read too many novels where the heroine insists on running away from an arranged marriage only to be chased 99 times before finally agreeing?

"Forgive me for being blunt, but I think listening to our parents is the right move."

Slap!

"Forgive me for being blunt, but these old folks are so selfish! They never consider their children’s feelings. Just because someone’s rich, good-looking, and nice doesn’t mean they can do whatever they want!!!"

After taking the slap, Ye Cheng’s eyes cleared up instantly, and he immediately switched his tone. Tang Yuyao nodded in agreement, moved to tears as if she’d finally found someone who understood her.

"Wuwuwu… you’re the only one who gets me. Gulp gulp… wuwuwu…"

Ye Cheng: "…"

Damn right he gets it—his face is practically swollen from all the slapping.

Tang Yuyao kept chugging her drink alone, swaying unsteadily as if she might collapse any second. Her gaze grew hazy as she stared at Ye Cheng, then suddenly grinned.

"Hey, kid… you smell so good…"

Ye Cheng: "???"