After Getting Bound to Both the Protagonist and the Villain at the Same Time - Chapter 1

“Gu Mian.”

A woman’s voice seeped in through the haze of a dream—lazy, slightly husky, and tender enough to wrap the person beside her into a seductive trance she wove by hand.

A luminous shoulder peeked out from beneath the quilt.

Gu Mian’s throat tightened for no reason. She wanted to speak, but her voice stretched thin like a fragile thread, spilling out only broken, uneven syllables.

“Jiejie.”

Something felt wrong—her instincts told her so.

But her senses drowned out that instinct, tugging her deeper, urging her to want more.

The weightless, floating sensation rose like a tide that wouldn’t ebb. Uncomfortable and overwhelmed, Gu Mian whimpered softly without realizing it.

A delicate hand pressed gently against her forehead.

“Gu Mian, what’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?”

The tide collapsed instantly.

Gu Mian’s eyes flew open. Cold sweat receded then flooded her spine. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

“It’s alright. Dreams and reality are opposites, remember?” Lin Chuyi reassured her. She tested Gu Mian’s temperature with the back of her hand, then compared it with her own. “You’re a little warm. I’ll go make some herbal cold medicine.”

“Jiejie,” Gu Mian whispered.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be right in the next room. Just call me if you need anything.”

Lin Chuyi walked out, her graceful silhouette stirring another wave of heat in Gu Mian’s body.

Gu Mian lifted a hand from beneath the quilt. It was damp. Lowering her gaze, she felt the lingering ache of desire coil in her throat again, tightening it further.

“Hey, do you think the heroine is sick?” Lin Chuyi asked as she started boiling water in the kitchenette. She pressed the kettle switch, then went to grab the herbal packets.

A small warm-white orb of light bobbed in front of her. After checking the heroine’s status panel, it hesitated. “There shouldn’t be any problem. I’m not getting any danger alerts.”

“Good.” Lin Chuyi let out a breath.

The orb was Mengmeng—the protagonist’s growth-and-protection system. This world was the world inside the book, with Gu Mian as the protagonist.

The year Gu Mian got into university, her parents died in an accident. Relatives coveted the inheritance they left behind, scheming until Gu Mian was left homeless.

At that point, a wealthy benefactor was supposed to appear and take her in. But something in the world-setting malfunctioned, and that benefactor never appeared. In a panic, System Mengmeng recruited Lin Chuyi as a substitute.

Once this transitional period passed, Gu Mian’s story would return to its correct path.

The system made a contract with Lin Chuyi: for every day she looked after Gu Mian, she earned one day’s worth of points—her salary. The amount fluctuated based on Gu Mian’s physical and emotional state.

Lin Chuyi had lived with her grandmother since childhood. Now, thanks to Mengmeng’s arrangements, her grandmother lived in a high-end nursing home.

Lin Chuyi needed points for her grandmother’s daily needs and additional points to ensure she stayed healthy.

She spent almost nothing on herself, yet the elderly body’s natural decline made everything feel like an endless struggle for points.

“Good thing she’s not sick.”

Lin Chuyi finished preparing the herbal drink, cooled it with a small fan, then brought it into the inner room.

They lived in a small old apartment—one bedroom, one living room, and a tiny narrow bathroom.

Gu Mian slept in the bedroom.

Lin Chuyi slept in the living room which really meant a portable folding cot.

Gu Mian reached for the cup. The moment her fingers brushed Lin Chuyi’s, her heart thudded violently.

“Jiejie, I can’t sleep.”

After drinking the herbal medicine, a faint warmth lingered between Gu Mian’s lips and teeth. She looked at Lin Chuyi—the curve of her swan-like neck glowed pale in the dim light, skin smooth down to the shadowed collarbone. Her beauty burned with a soft yet intoxicating heat that even Lin Chuyi struggled not to react to.

Lin Chuyi considered for a moment. “If you keep your eyes closed long enough, you’ll fall asleep. I hated taking afternoon naps as a kid—I always felt awake. My grandma used to tell me the same thing.” Mentioning her grandmother softened her expression. “And in the end, I really did fall asleep.”

“I want Jiejie to stay with me,” Gu Mian murmured. “When I’m alone in the room, it feels so empty.”

Her bed wasn’t much larger than the folding cot Lin Chuyi used, but at least it had a proper mattress.

Gu Mian patted the space beside her, signaling for Lin Chuyi to lie down.

“I shouldn’t. You need proper rest.” Lin Chuyi still wasn’t used to being physically close to anyone—even if that person was the girl she had “picked up.”

“But it’s raining so hard tonight,” Gu Mian said. She wasn’t upset at being rejected. She understood Lin Chuyi—understood the boundaries she always kept.

And it was precisely this restraint that made Gu Mian want to cross them.

Gu Mian looked toward the window and sighed. “Just like the night you took me in.”

Hearing that, Lin Chuyi couldn’t help remembering the first time she met Gu Mian.

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that Gu Mian was practically “picked up” by her—because at that time, Gu Mian had truly been in a miserable state.

Rain poured from the sky in sheets. While Gu Mian was in the process of inheriting her family estate, her relatives had tampered with the paperwork. In the end, she walked away with nothing but a single suitcase of clothes—everything else was taken from her.

Fat droplets pelted the ground with such force they felt like falling stones. Gu Mian huddled beneath the awning of an abandoned security booth, dragging her suitcase with no destination in mind.

Her phone had shut itself off. She didn’t have a single coin on her. People hurried past on all sides, every one of them with somewhere to go—everyone except Gu Mian, who stood there alone, with nowhere to be taken in.

The rain intensified. Water splashed up from the pavement and soaked her clothes completely. Eventually, she simply stepped out into the rain. The heavy drops stung against her skin, but the pain only sharpened her thoughts.

One day.

One day, I’ll take back everything that belongs to me.

And then, a single umbrella came to a stop above her head.

“Why are you standing out in the rain?” a gentle female voice asked.

Gu Mian turned her head—and the moment seemed to stretch into eternity.

The newcomer was a soft-spoken young woman with delicate, well-proportioned features. Her fair face held a trace of confusion, like a piece of warm jade giving off a faint, comforting glow.

To Gu Mian, that warmth felt like sunlight itself—something she couldn’t help wanting to cling to, to hold tight, to tie herself to.

But she was wary.

Her relatives’ betrayal had left her skittish as a frightened bird. Even the smallest act of kindness triggered immediate suspicion. If even those who had watched her grow up could deceive her, how much less should she trust a complete stranger?

Gu Mian said nothing. She simply retreated back under the security booth awning.

Standing out in the open getting drenched was a little stupid, she realized belatedly.

Lin Chuyi, meanwhile, was complaining to her system:

“Is the protagonist’s brain malfunctioning from all the angst? Why would she step back into the rain?”

The system felt that Lin Chuyi had a point, but quickly remembered its role and hurriedly donned its “Protect the Protagonist” badge.

“You can’t talk about the protagonist like that! Too rude!”

“You were just nodding,” Lin Chuyi exposed mercilessly. “I saw you bounce up and down.”

“How dare you soil my pure name without evidence?” The system flapped its tiny wings and retreated.

“Anyway,” Lin Chuyi said, opening her umbrella as she walked toward the figure in the rain, “let’s bring her home.”

Since she and the system had reached an agreement, Gu Mian was temporarily entrusted to her—placed under both the system’s and the plot’s protection—and had essentially become her little charge.

And if Gu Mian was now her little charge, then Lin Chuyi would naturally take good care of her.

“If you don’t have anywhere to go,” Lin Chuyi offered, “why don’t you come to my place first? Warm up with something hot.”

Gu Mian watched her with guarded eyes. But the girl before her looked so harmless—she didn’t even seem strong enough to hold the umbrella properly. Gu Mian’s lips were blue from the cold, her clothes clinging uncomfortably to her skin. She wanted to turn her down politely, but the words couldn’t come.

In the end, she only nodded.

Dragging her suitcase, Gu Mian followed Lin Chuyi into a small apartment—no more than twenty square meters.

It was neat and tidy, with thoughtful touches throughout. Gu Mian’s breath eased just slightly.

There was no sign of anyone else living there. Gu Mian quietly let out a breath of relief. At least this meant Lin Chuyi lived alone; if she tried anything, Gu Mian was confident she could overpower her.

The rain outside was relentless, and both of them were soaked through.

Lin Chuyi shrugged off her jacket, fetched a dry towel and some clean clothes, and handed them to Gu Mian.

“Why don’t you shower first?” she said. She caught Gu Mian’s startled expression and couldn’t help laughing. “What? I’m not going to shower with you. You don’t have to look so nervous. Don’t worry, I’m not a bad person.”

(Though if the protagonist did agree to shower together, the one panicking would be Lin Chuyi.)

When Lin Chuyi removed her jacket, a satin camisole peeked out from beneath it. Rainwater slid from her hair, traced down her collarbone, and pooled at the soft dip of her curves. For some reason, Gu Mian’s face warmed.

Lin Chuyi remained blissfully unaware.

She towel-dried her hair with careless strokes before shooting Gu Mian a sideways glance.

“Well? Aren’t you going? If you shower first, I’ll still need to wait a few minutes for the heater before I can go next.”

Gu Mian accepted the towel and clothes, murmuring awkwardly, “Thank you.”

She entered the bathroom. It was small, connected directly to the toilet, separated only by a waterproof curtain—simple and basic.

It was also the first time Gu Mian had seen such a modest bathroom. She fiddled with the non-smart showerhead, but no matter how she tried, only cold water came out—and in a thin, pitiful trickle at that.

Meanwhile, Lin Chuyi was still in the living room, toweling off her hair. She wasn’t fond of the dampness either, but since Gu Mian was using the bathroom, she had to wait her turn.

After waiting a while with still no sound from inside, Lin Chuyi let out a puzzled, “Huh?”

Then she heard Gu Mian’s hesitant voice, stumbling over the words:

“Um, could you come in for a moment? I don’t really know how to use this shower.”