Innately Evil Mrs. Du, Devil Child Descends, The Eldest Miss Changes Face

In the hallway.

Du Wanyi was running around barefoot, her slippers—previously worn—now lost somewhere along the way. Clutching her laptop, she charged toward Little Hanhan’s room while breathlessly "broadcasting" the latest crisis, ensuring her daughter heard the commotion long before she arrived.

"Bang bang bang!"

"Open the door, Little Hanhan! It’s an emergency—your boyfriend jumped off a building!" Du Wanyi’s voice was frantic.

And for good reason. After finally finding someone who could get along with her reclusive daughter, the prize was snatched away before she could even sink her teeth into it.

If it were anyone else, Du Wanyi wouldn’t be so worried. Her Little Hanhan might have a temper, but in every other aspect, she was top-tier—wealthy, influential, and living the dream. Worst-case scenario? If someone refused to cooperate, they could always be… persuaded. "Rejecting kindness only to beg for cruelty" wasn’t a problem for Du Wanyi.

Anything the Du Family set their sights on in Great Sea City was as good as theirs. They’d just been keeping a low profile lately. Back in her childhood, Du Wanyi, the infamous "Demon Child," had gotten whatever she wanted—absolute power, unchecked indulgence.

The Du Family had once been the undisputed rulers of Great Sea City, a sprawling super-clan with a flourishing lineage. But by Du Wanyi’s generation, the main branch had dwindled to just her—a lone heir. What else could they do but spoil her rotten?

It wasn’t that the Du Family lacked other branches or descendants. Quite the opposite—there were plenty of offshoots in Great Sea City and across the globe, along with their vast enterprises. But the main lineage? Only Du Wanyi remained.

Even the "Demon Child" had to accept reality. Fortunately, the Du Family’s wealth and influence were vast enough to let her wreak havoc without consequence. A smaller family would’ve imploded long ago.

If Du Wanyi wanted something, it would be in her hands by the next day—if not sooner. Rarely did she face denial.

Except when it came to the Dongfang Family’s possessions.

Hmm… This went way back. When Du Wanyi was little, at a Dongfang Family banquet, she’d taken a liking to a pendant on someone’s pants. So, naturally, she yanked their underwear off. Thankfully, there was a second layer underneath, or the humiliation would’ve been legendary.

The victim of the "Demon Child’s" antics? None other than the current head of the Dongfang Family, Dongfang Zhan.

Few knew of this incident—it involved the Dongfang Family’s dignity, after all. And since it was just kids being kids, no one made a big deal out of it. More importantly, the Dongfang Family, a rising powerhouse, and the Du Family, the old-guard titans, had deep collaborative ties. A fallout was unthinkable.

The two families even had intermarriage traditions—though only among the lesser branches, never the main lines.

Logically, a union between Du Wanyi and Dongfang Zhan would’ve been ideal, merging their power into an unbreakable alliance, ruling Great Sea City together. But…

Their interactions were far from pleasant. After Du Wanyi publicly pantsed Dongfang Zhan, the young heir developed a lifelong aversion to her. The families’ grand plans collapsed before they even began, forcing them to pin their hopes on the next generation.

That hope rested on Dongfang Zhixia and Shen Qinghan. But alas, both were girls—another dead end for the marriage alliance. With both families down to a single heir, they had no choice but to wait for another opportunity.

Even without marriage, they could’ve at least become close friends, strengthening family ties. But thanks to the "inherently wicked" Du Wanyi, relations had stagnated. If the younger generation could bridge the gap, it’d be a blessing.

Yet… Shen Qinghan was naturally withdrawn, while Dongfang Zhixia was prideful. As toddlers, one refused to speak, the other played alone. Later, Dongfang Zhixia even tried initiating conversations, only to be met with Shen Qinghan’s robotic "Hmm" or "Oh." The frustration was mutual. Progress? Zero.

At most, they’d cross paths during family gatherings or unavoidable events—brief, forced encounters that led nowhere.

This was why, despite knowing each other since childhood, they remained strangers. Their personalities were fundamentally incompatible. Dongfang Zhixia might’ve been willing to try, but Shen Qinghan simply wasn’t interested.

Which was also why Du Wanyi had been overjoyed when her daughter finally made a friend at school. After twenty years of failed attempts, this was a miracle! Desperate measures—like sending her to school—had paid off.

But now… things weren’t looking good. The "boyfriend" her Little Hanhan had taken a liking to was barely warmed up before Dongfang Zhixia swooped in to steal him. Unacceptable!

Du Wanyi might’ve been a born troublemaker, but she knew opportunity when she saw it. Some chances, once missed, were gone forever.

What if her Little Hanhan got heartbroken? Depressed? Even more withdrawn?

These were the worries of a doting mother. So when rumors about Ye Cheng and Dongfang Zhixia surfaced, Du Wanyi panicked. If she didn’t act fast, the Du Family’s future son-in-law would become the Dongfang Family’s!

"Bang bang bang!"

The more she thought, the more frantic she became, hammering on the door. "Open up, Little Hanhan! If you don’t, your boyfriend’s running off with someone else!"

"Oh."

A cool, indifferent voice drifted from inside—utterly devoid of emotion.

Finally, after all her desperate pleading, the young mistress responded. But… the reaction was bafflingly flat.

Du Wanyi: "…"

She felt like vomiting blood. This was karma. After years of tricking her daughter with outrageous lies, she’d cried wolf once too often. Now, Shen Qinghan simply didn’t believe her.

Based on the young mistress's experience, that inherently wicked aunty must be scheming again to make her open the door, seize the chance to slip inside, and then grope her all over. After getting her fill, she’d claim she had low blood sugar and needed kisses to recover, and then…

"Oh," Shen Qinghan responded absentmindedly without even looking up from her book, hearing the commotion outside.

Du Wanyi: "..."

"Waaah, open the door, Little Hanhan! This time it's serious! Waaah… Ye Cheng is about to be snatched away by that girl from the Dongfang Family! Waaah…"

Du Wanyi was sprawled pitifully against the door, her face a picture of despair, radiating the vibe of a "kind-hearted" housewife whose goodwill had been cruelly rejected. She was just a gentle, well-meaning lady—how could she possibly have any ill intentions? She only wanted to help! Waaah…

Inside the room.

Perhaps it was because the voice of that inherently wicked aunty outside was grating on her nerves, or maybe it was the sweltering heat, or even her poor sleep the night before… Whatever the reason, Shen Qinghan was feeling irritable.

This feeling hadn’t come out of nowhere. To be precise, it had started earlier—specifically, back in the cafeteria when she witnessed Ye Cheng and Dongfang Zhixia locking lips.

Shen Qinghan had seen it all: the way Ye Cheng had "dusted off" Dongfang Zhixia, his shameless paws lingering for a full five seconds on her thigh. To Shen Qinghan, it looked less like dusting and more like blatant groping.

At that moment, her eyes had narrowed. Though her expression remained calm, the grip on her tiny dining fork had tightened imperceptibly—a detail no one else would notice, but one she was acutely aware of.

Knowing Ye Cheng’s character, she had tried to rationalize it: he was just a pervert who liked taking advantage of people, and this time, Dongfang Zhixia happened to be his target. That explanation had somewhat soothed her, allowing her to regain her composure—until she looked back and saw the two of them kissing.

At that point, the young mistress appeared eerily calm. In reality, her brain had short-circuited, leaving her mind blank. The last time this had happened was in her childhood, when Du Wanyi had suddenly stopped feeding her mid-meal, replacing the utensil with her finger while making "tsk tsk" noises as if coaxing a puppy.

Back then, the young mistress had her first taste of human wickedness. Her mind had frozen, cementing Du Wanyi’s status as an inherently wicked aunty. From then on, Shen Qinghan would rather starve than endure such "humiliation."

Hungry? She’d eat. Tired? She’d sleep. If something wasn’t given, she’d take it by force—she was utterly domineering.

Years later, she was once again confronted with the cruelty of the world. Her mind went blank, buzzing numbly as she stared at the scene before her, overwhelmed by an indescribable feeling.

Sadness? Heartache? Irritation? Anger?

Maybe all of them. Maybe none. She didn’t know. The moment she witnessed that kiss, she sealed away her emotions, retreating into a "safe zone."

Once inside that zone, it was as if she had rebooted, forcibly resetting herself to a state before she had seen anything. Outwardly, she seemed unchanged—but inside, she had already been wounded.

Later, when Ye Cheng returned and Dongfang Zhixia left, Shen Qinghan’s perception of the world shifted.

Before this, the world in her eyes had been devoid of "color." Only those close to her carried any hue—everyone else was just an NPC, meaningless and forgettable. The result was her aloof, solitary demeanor.

Most people appeared in shades of gray. A few with distinctive traits might have a splash of color, allowing her to remember them. When she first met Ye Cheng, he had color—the shade of a "weird guy," a label stuck to his head that made him stand out.

Over time, more labels and colors piled onto Ye Cheng: "shameless," "sly," "perverted," "loves chicken legs," "money-grubbing," "good at claw machines…"

But now, for the first time, Dongfang Zhixia—who had never registered in Shen Qinghan’s world—had gained her own "color" and label.

That label read: "A shameless, scheming woman!"

Dongfang Zhixia had spent over a decade failing to leave an impression on the young mistress—yet in a single moment, she had seared herself into Shen Qinghan’s memory.

"Young Mistress, earlier, the chairwoman—ahem, that wicked woman—was deliberately trying to drive a wedge between us! You mustn’t fall for it!"

"Young Mistress…"

"Shut up. I want to eat."

The scene and dialogue replayed in Shen Qinghan’s mind. In truth, that last line needed translation—it wasn’t "Shut up, I want to eat," but rather, "Shut up, I’m upset right now."

She didn’t want to feel this way. Nor did she want to tell Ye Cheng that she was… not okay.

The young mistress, who had been emotionally shut down, finally "woke up" when she saw Ye Cheng get kicked out of the car by the short-haired woman and land on the ground. This time, she clearly felt her own emotion: fury.

It was rare for Shen Qinghan to lose her temper. The short-haired woman had been Du Wanyi’s attendant for years, tasked with protection, communication, and fulfilling Shen Qinghan’s every need. Though the young mistress had always disliked relying on others and preferred doing things herself, their relationship had been decent due to her mother’s influence.

Shen Qinghan was famously level-headed—so much so that the short-haired woman was visibly shaken when she saw her erupt in anger.

That was why the attendant later offered to "commit seppuku" as an apology.

Before kicking Ye Cheng, the short-haired woman had no idea that this seemingly ordinary guy held such weight in the young mistress’s heart. Had she known, she would never have done it.

This was clearly a lovers’ quarrel—and yet, like a fool, she had kicked him out. What if her young mistress had been waiting for Ye Cheng to get in the car and come home with her? But no—she had sent him tumbling to the ground.

She was guilty. She deserved to die. She—

The frustration in her heart drove Shen Qinghan to pick up her phone and search for news about a student's "suicide by jumping." If what that naturally wicked woman outside her door said was true—that someone had indeed jumped—there would surely be reports about it.

After typing in the keywords, relevant news and forum posts quickly popped up. Among them, the most trending was a sensationalized post titled, "Shocking! A Man Actually Did THIS in His Dorm Room…"

A large image was displayed as the thumbnail, vaguely familiar to Shen Qinghan. She narrowed her eyes, about to click on it, when another notification abruptly popped up.

"This post has been removed for violating platform guidelines!"

Shen Qinghan: "…"

What an uncanny coincidence. She narrowed her eyes again as the voice of that naturally wicked woman outside continued to wail.

"Wuwuwu, Little Hanhan, open the door! This time it's for real…"

Bang!

"Ah! Little Hanhan, you finally opened the door!"

Without warning, the door to her sweet, soft daughter’s room swung open. Du Wanyi froze for a moment, her pitiful expression instantly shifting to excitement.

Shen Qinghan’s sharp gaze quickly locked onto the laptop in Du Wanyi’s hands. On the screen was the exact same post she had just seen, but this one had been saved—meaning even if the original was deleted, the content remained intact.

"Let me see that," Shen Qinghan said calmly.

Du Wanyi nodded, about to hand over the laptop, when she suddenly seemed to remember something and immediately "changed faces." The pitiful, selfless "kind-hearted wife and mother" persona who only wanted to help her dear daughter vanished, replaced by a completely different expression.

"You can have the laptop, but… Little Hanhan, Mommy’s arms are so sore from holding it up for so long outside. You’ll have to give me a massage later…"

Her words made it clear—she wanted the young mistress to massage her.

Shen Qinghan nodded. "Fine. Mother, please hand it over first. You’ve worked hard."

Du Wanyi nearly burst out laughing at this. Hahaha, Little Hanhan, you’re still too young! Try competing with Mommy again in another decade or two, hehehe…

She handed the laptop over with a sweet smile. "Oh, Little Hanhan, you’re so good to Mommy. My hands really are—"

BANG!

Before Du Wanyi could finish her sentence, the door slammed shut in her face. Shen Qinghan had the laptop now and had just demonstrated what a true "face change" looked like.

Du Wanyi: "…"

Bang bang bang!

"Wuwuwu! So cruel! Little Hanhan, you’re so cruel! So shameless! Is this how you treat your own mother?! Wuwuwu…"

"Waaahhh! Give it back! Wuwuwu…"

The sound of Du Wanyi’s dramatic wailing echoed outside the door, but inside, the young mistress simply put on her noise-canceling headphones in silence. Instantly, the world fell quiet.

Click. Click.

The only sound left in the room was the rhythmic tapping of the mouse. Shen Qinghan stared at the content on the screen, her face paling slightly. Her pupils trembled, and even her fingers gripping the mouse shook faintly…