She Has the Hots for You

Little Jia pouted with teary eyes, her reddened rims making her look like a soft, fluffy bunny.

"You—you said goodbye, but why did you have to hug that woman?"

Zhou Yi crouched down to wipe her tears, his tone laced with helplessness: "Xie Tingwan was feeling down today. I was just comforting her."

Xie Tingwan?

"You call her so intimately... You’ve never even called me Jiajia before."

Little Jia glared at him indignantly: "Well, I’m feeling down too. Comfort me the same way."

Zhou Yi feigned confusion, deliberately furrowing his brows: "What’s gotten into you? You’ve been acting strange all day."

Little Jia pressed her lips together, unsure how to respond.

They say the most painful jealousy is the kind you have no right to feel. Their relationship wasn’t even ambiguous—it was purely her one-sided crush on Zhou Yi.

She knew that all too well, which was why she couldn’t bring herself to lash out at him.

"Brother Zhou, do you like her?"

"Just friends for now."

"Really?"

"Really."

Little Jia smiled, quickly appeased.

Zhou Yi had no reason to lie to her.

In her heart, she sighed. Zhou Yi was just too kind—seeing Xie Tingwan upset, he’d simply offered comfort.

Little Jia quickly cheered herself up.

She leaned closer, her pretty face still dotted with tears, looking delicate and sweet.

Her eyes curved into crescents as she grinned adorably: "Then come over to my place, okay? You’re the best—you’ll say yes, right?"

Zhou Yi frowned. "Why are you so insistent on me visiting?"

Little Jia blinked her big eyes and poked his shoulder, whispering:

"You said you’d come last time but left me waiting at the door. It’s been like a thorn in my heart—uncomfortable."

"That’s all?"

"And... I want you to spend more time with me."

Her long, fluttering lashes trembled slightly, her cheeks flushing pink.

She’d never said anything like this to anyone before.

She wished she had something—anything—to make Zhou Yi stay.

"Does Jiajia not have friends?"

The moment Zhou Yi called her "Jiajia," her heart skipped a beat.

He called me Jiajia...

"Friends are friends, but you’re different."

"How am I different?"

Little Jia gazed into Zhou Yi’s deep eyes, unconsciously drawn in. Softly, she murmured: "I like being with you."

In Zhou Yi’s eyes, she wasn’t some aristocratic princess—her wealth and beauty meant nothing.

She was just herself—Little Jia, without any titles.

"Fine, I’ll take you home today and visit tomorrow, okay?"

"Why not today? You’re already here—why wait till tomorrow?"

"I can’t stay overnight at your place. It’s not proper. Be good—I’m thinking of your reputation."

"I don’t care about that! My father doesn’t even bother with me. Come on, let’s just go!"

Little Jia tugged Zhou Yi into the car.

Humming cheerfully, she suddenly remembered something.

"Brother Zhou, you once said something during your livestream."

"What was it?"

"'I’ve seen many beautiful things, constructing an imaginary figure in my mind. But the moment I saw you, that illusion took form—and my heart skipped a beat.'"

Zhou Yi chuckled softly. "Someday, someone will make Jiajia’s heart skip too."

"Maybe it already has."

After her words, Zhou Yi fell silent.

She didn’t mind. She’d already figured out that Zhou Yi was a tough nut to crack.

Sometimes, she wished he were more superficial—someone who loved money and beauty. That’d make him easier to win over.

But if he were like that, she wouldn’t like him anymore.

A paradox with no solution.

She loved him precisely because he wasn’t that kind of person. How frustrating.

"Brother Zhou, do you like opera?"

"You’re not seriously planning to hire a troupe, are you?"

"No need—I can sing myself."

"You can sing opera?"

"My father loves it, so I picked it up. As a kid, I learned a bit from the troupes he hired."

"Then sing for me tomorrow."

When the car arrived at the mansion, Little Jia hopped out and summoned Steward Fang. Tossing him the keys, she tried dragging Zhou Yi inside.

"I thought we agreed on tomorrow?"

"Today, tomorrow—what’s the difference? Stay with me tonight. Please?"

Zhou Yi shook his head.

Little Jia grinned—a smile that sent chills down the spine.

Whenever she plotted mischief, this was the look she wore.

She was utterly unreasonable. Without hesitation, she signaled her two bodyguards to "escort" Zhou Yi inside.

Anyone with half a brain could tell Zhou Yi was letting himself be "forced."

He might even be enjoying it.

"Lock every door. No one opens them without my permission."

"Jiajia, how old are you? This is childish. Let me go."

"No. Stay with me tonight. My room’s big enough."

Zhou Yi pretended to panic, sternly refusing:

"That’s completely inappropriate!"

"Why? Afraid I’ll do something to you?"

"People will talk."

"What people? Only our household’s here. No one would dare gossip—or I’ll cut out their tongues. Right, Steward Fang?"

"Of course. Our lips are sealed. Young Mistress, you should retire for the night."

"See? Told you."

Steward Fang and the bodyguards led Zhou Yi to Little Jia’s room.

The mansion was enormous—her room lay beyond two courtyards.

It took a while to reach it.

Her private quarters were exquisite: a corridor outside led to a small garden.

The courtyard boasted pavilions and terraces, a picturesque sight—though Zhou Yi had no mind for scenery at this hour.

"Let me go. It’s not like I can leave now anyway."

"Release Brother Zhou! What if you hurt him?"

Once inside, Little Jia shooed everyone out and slammed the door shut.

Zhou Yi sat stiffly at her desk, his expression icy.

Little Jia giggled, poking his shoulder:

"Mad at me?"

"What do you think? We agreed on tomorrow, yet you couldn’t wait a second. Hardly ladylike."

She poured him water: "Don’t be angry. I was wrong—I went back on my word. Brother Zhou, don’t hold it against me?"

Clasping her hands, she bit her lip in apology.

Zhou Yi took the water without a word.

She leaned in again, cupping her cheeks and batting her lashes:

"What’ll make you forgive me? How about we share the bed tonight? I’ll give you a massage!"

Zhou Yi pretended to choke, his face flushing as he coughed: "Y-You—what are you thinking?!"

077 (system voice): "Pretty obvious, Host. She’s after your body."